#'i have punched a man before!!!! for you!!!!'

[a-b-riddle]

Part Four

Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.

"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.

"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."

"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.

"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."

You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.

"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.

Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.

It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.

It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.

In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.

"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."

"You think it was a stunt?"

"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."

"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."

"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."

"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."

"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."

You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.

You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.

"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”

For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.

Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?

"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.

You were finally angry.

[candylix]

great minds think alike | bang chan

A sequel to blow my mind, read that one first! Pairing • Chan x GN!Reader Summary • After failing your test, you decide to go to the library to study. But when you get there, you see Chan. He wasn't the reason you failed, but he definitely didn't help. You said you weren't going to read his mind again, but after the first incident, he hasn't left your thoughts. It couldn't hurt to see what he's thinking about this time, right? Genre • college au, fluff, smut WC • 2.6k Content • sequel to blow my mind, no pronouns used but reader does have a vagina and breasts, mind reading, dirty thoughts about: asking you out 🥰, public sex, groping, thigh grinding, clit stimulation. Chan has an exhibitionism kink. Indented paragraphs indicate what's happening in his mind and not real life.

You really needed to bring your grade up. Normally you do alright, but that score was going to plummet your GPA. You never expected cheating to backfire so hard... but how could you possibly predict that the person you were mind reading would be thinking about sex the whole time?

This time, you'll be prepared the right way. You carry your textbooks and notes to the school library, and you're going to buckle down and study.

You enter the library with your foolproof plan in mind. You even set your timer for an hour, so you know when to take a break after all your hard work. But you freeze when you get to the tables and see a certain man already there.

Chan is studying too. You can feel your heartbeat thumping in your chest. After the test, you caught yourself thinking about him all the time. When you saw him, you felt butterflies in your stomach. You wanted to be around him, but you felt too anxious to say hi.

Safe to say, you've formed a little crush on him. It was embarrassing to admit to yourself, because you know how it happened. You read his mind, saw him fuck you on the desk, and now you want to hold his hand and kiss him.

Before you can even think rationally, you find yourself walking over to his table.

"Hey, mind if I study here?" you ask, mentally punching yourself for breaking the plan this easily.

He looks up, startled by the sudden intrusion, but his shock fades into a smile when he sees you.

"Go ahead," he responds. You pull out the seat across from him and put your stuff in front of you, as if you'll actually be able to get any studying done.

"Did you see your test score yet?" he asks.

"Yeah... let's just say there's a reason I came here to study."

"I didn't do too well either. Not bad, but not good."

"What happened?" you ask. You know what happened, but you want to see what he has to say.

"I, uh," he starts, and you see his cheeks start to flush. "I got a bit distracted."

'A bit distracted' is the understatement of the century.

"I hope I don't distract you, then."

He laughs nervously at your comment.

"Well, um, I'll get back to studying then," he says, and hides his face behind his laptop.

You open your textbook and think about studying, but you know you wont be able to resist peering into his mind. With the way he reacted, you know he's going to think about something interesting.

While pretending to read the book, you focus on him, and his thoughts gradually fill your head.

'Ok, Chan, focus. You can do this. Just... read your notes... focus... it would be rude to leave, right? I'm not gonna be able to focus like this.'

There was a small part of you that thought he didn't actually have feelings for you, and that he was just a pervert. But from the way he's struggling to study because you sat at his table, you can tell he really does like you.

'Do you want to go for coffee after this? No, that's stupid, it's too late to get coffee. What about... Wanna go see a movie sometime? That's stupid too. Ugh. How do you ask someone out without being cringy? Maybe I should buy some flowers? No, I'd have to carry them around all day like an idiot. This is too hard. I should just jump into a volcano. That would be easier... But this is such a good chance. I have to say something before I miss another perfect opportunity...'

His thoughts are racing a mile a minute, trying to figure out what he's going to say to ask you out. He said something about missing another opportunity... how long has this been on his mind? You feel heat rise to your cheeks as you think of every time you talked, wondering when he was thinking of asking you out. There have been a few times where he looked like he was going to say something, but just kept quiet. Was that him chickening out? Maybe you should put him out of his misery and ask him to dinner.

You tune back into his mind, just in time for him to imagine a scenario involving you.

He's sitting in the library across from you, exactly how you are now, but he's wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses. "Hey babe, why don't you stop what you're doing and take a ride with me tonight. I'll make it worth your while." He winks, and a motorcycle comes crashing through the wall to stand next to him. He takes a seat on it, and you run up to get on behind him. He revs the engine a few times to look cool. You wrap your arms around his waist, feeling his six pack through his shirt. Then he rides the motorcycle out of the hole in the wall and into the sunset.

You can't stop a chuckle from escaping your lips.

"What are you laughing at?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow.

"Um, nothing. Just remembered something funny my friend said earlier," you lie.

You both go back to 'studying'. That was a close call. Not that he would ever guess what you're doing, but you did want to see where that fantasy was heading. You don't have to wait long before another one starts again.

You're both sitting in the library. He clears his throat, and you look up at him. "Sorry to interrupt, but... would you want to... maybe... go out with me?" he asks. "No." You say flatly. Then you take your textbook and smack him across the face, before leaving the room. 'Chan, that would never happen,' he thinks to himself. The daydream resets, and you're back where you were before, sitting across the table from him as if that never happened. He suddenly stands up, grabbing your attention, and walks over to your side of the table. He sits on your textbook, forcing you to look up at him. "We're done studying for today. I'm taking you out for dinner." "But-" "No buts. I won't take no for an answer." "I guess I have no choice then," you say, giggling. He fixates on your smile, they way you look at him, your lips... and everything freezes.

Chan buries his face in his hands. He wanted to be a cool, suave ladies man, but even in his imagination he loses his composure when you smile at him.

It's cute to see him like this, reminding you of when you read his mind during the test. The first thing he did was imagine holding your hand. It's possible that his feelings have gotten stronger since then, because now he's struggling just to ask you out in his romantic fantasies.

He's still sitting on the table in front of you, and he takes your hand, pulling you up to your feet. His other hand cups your cheek, and guides your face down to him. Your lips press into his, and you melt into the kiss. He breaks the kiss, and looks into your eyes. "Let's take a rain check on dinner," he says, and his hands move to the bottom of your shirt. "What are you-" you start, but he lifts your shirt up and over your head, throwing it to the side. He unclasps your bra and throws it somewhere as well, and he drinks in the sight of you. "Chan, we're in public. Someone might see us." "Good, let them. I want everyone to know these," he says, grabbing your tits, "are mine." With one hand on each breast, he massages them, and kisses you again. His thumb grazes over your nipples, and you moan into the kiss. You can feel him smile, and he pulls at your nipples while he gropes you. His hands travel down your stomach and to your waist. He's quick to unbutton your pants and pull them down. He massages your ass over your underwear, and his thigh parts your legs to rest itself under your cunt. You gasp, and he slips his tongue in, deepening the kiss. You roll your hips, rubbing your pussy on his muscular thigh. He grabs your waist to help guide you on him, and you continue grinding on his leg as the feeling in your pit starts to build. "Not so shy anymore, huh?" he teases. "You want everyone to see you humping my leg." You roll your hips against him faster, trying to feel as much as you can between multiple layers of fabric. He watches your breasts bounce as you buck against him, and he sits there mesmerized at how good you look when you're fucking yourself on him.

Your alarm goes off. You both jump in your seats. His daydream instantly vanishes as the noise brings you both back to reality. You scramble to shut it off.

"Sorry, I forgot I set that alarm." "Oh... Does that mean you're done?" he asks. He looks at you with sad puppy dog eyes.

'Shit. I was too busy being horny that I completely forgot to ask. Ugh.'

You decide that if you want to go out with him, you're going to have to ask him yourself. "Actually, I have something I wanted to ask you," you say, and he instantly perks up. Your feel your heart beating, and you hesitate for a moment. You know he'll say yes, but you still feel nervous all of a sudden. Asking someone out apparently doesn't get easier even if you have nothing to fear. Finally, you make yourself say the words.

"Do you want to go out sometime?" He pauses, and starts overthinking about what you could possibly mean. "Um... like you want to hang out? Like a friendly 'go out'?" "More like a date 'go out'."

"Oh... OH. Yes!" He coughs, trying to sound nonchalant. "Yeah, let's go out sometime."

He can't hold back the grin that forms on his face. "Actually, I was going to ask you the same thing."

"Really?" you say, feigning ignorance, "That's crazy. I didn't know you were interested in me."

"Yeah... I've liked you for a while," he says shyly, and his cheeks turn pink. God he's cute.

"In that case," you start, walking around to his side of the table and grabbing his hand, "there's something I want to do." You pull him up to his feet, and lead him to the bookshelves. You walk into an empty aisle near the back. "I really want to kiss you." His face turns bright red, and you can hear the thumping of his heartbeat. "O-ok," he stutters. He's completely different from the Casanova in his daydreams, but the juxtaposition is very endearing.

You cup his face and lean in for a kiss, and he kisses back softly. He doesn't know where to put his hands at first, but he rests them on your waist. Gently, you push him back against the bookshelves and press your body into him. He melts into the kiss, and his confidence grows enough to lower his hands to your ass.

For the first time, his thoughts are completely silent.

You're the first to break the kiss. "Do you want to go a bit further?" you ask. "Further...?" he asks, and when your hands leave his face to travel down to his hips, his eyes go wide. "What if someone walks in on us?"

"Then they'll know I'm all yours," you whisper. With the way you're pressed up against him, you can feel his erection forming. If his daydreams didn't convince you of his exhibitionism kink, this sure did.

He nods his head, and you lean back in for another kiss. You palm his crotch, and as you slowly stroke his bulge, you feel him harden under your touch. He grabs your hand, stopping it in its track. "What's wrong?" you ask. "Sorry, I just..." he hesitates for a moment, but continues, "I want to be the one touching you." You remember everything he's fantasized. That is what he likes. "Go ahead," you say. He turns you around so that your back is on his chest, and he brings his hand between your legs. He kisses your neck while he rubs you, and you lean your head back into him. His hand moves into your pants, and he feels the wet spot in your underwear. He moves it aside, and his fingers circle your clit. When he finds a spot that makes you twitch, he presses into it, rubbing it harder and faster until your body rocks into his hand. His other hand snakes under your shirt to grope your breast, and he plays with your nipple. He rubs it and pulls at it, earning a moan from you. The fingers on your clit stroke you faster, and you can hear how wet you are as he moves in and out of your folds. The sensations from your breast and your core has you bucking wildly on him, and your ass presses against his dick. He buries his face into your shoulder, dampening the moan he lets out. He grinds into you from behind, with no rhythm in his movements.

You can feel your orgasm building, and you can't control how you hump Chan's hand while he continues his brutal pace against your cunt. He works his fingers, caressing your folds and rubbing a sensitive spot. You writhe under his touch, and you know you're close. You feel the dam burst, and he continues to rub circles around your clit as you buck into his hand, riding out your high. His hand continues to hold your pussy as he humps your ass, feeling his own orgasm building. He moans, and his pace slows down as he finishes on you. You're both breathing heavily, and he takes his hand out of your pants.

You both lower yourselves to the ground in exhaustion, and you turn to face him. He leans back against the bookshelf. "You don't know how much I wanted to do that," he finally says, and you have to stop yourself from saying yes, you did know.

"Me too," you admit.

As much fun as it was peeping into his thoughts, the real thing felt way better.

"Do you... want to make plans for our date?" he asks. You completely forgot about that in the heat of the moment. "Maybe we should get cleaned up before we think about next time." "Oh, right. Do you want to come to my dorm to shower?" he asks, before adding "Just to get cleaned up! I didn't mean- unless you want to-"

"Yes," you say, answering his question before he overthinks and uninvites you. "I don't want to have to go home like this."

"Yeah, um, alright. Come with me."

You go back to the table to get your stuff, which thankfully is still there, and he leads you to his dorm.

You didn't end up studying, but you did end up with a boyfriend, and that's more important anyways.

Although he would argue otherwise.

EPILOGUE:

You're chilling in Chan's room while you wait for your final grades to show up on the school website. You check your phone, it's finally the time they said it would be posted. You both open the website.

"Yes!" he yells, "I got a 93%!"

You wait for the page to load, and when you see your mark, you breathe a sigh of relief.

You barely passed, with 1% over the failing grade, but a pass is a pass nonetheless. Your GPA fell significantly after you started dating Chan, but it worked out in the end.

He looks at your score.

'Wow, what a terrible grade.'

He looks back at you.

"Hey, you passed! Great job!" he says, and gives you a high five.

[rafecameroninterlude]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 𝟐𝟒

pairing: dark!rafe x fem!pogue!reader

summary: ❝there’s only 24 hours in a day, and half of those you lay awake with thoughts of murder and carnage.❞ — when you accidentally witness rafe commit a murder, he’s willing to do everything he has to do in order to make sure there’s no loose ends. even if that means tracking you down and killing you himself.

warnings: predator/prey dynamic, murder, descriptions of violence and blood, time skips (just hours apart), choking (not the good kind), rafe quite literally tries to kill you, it kinda gives stockholm syndrome ngl

word count: 3.1k

a/n: series masterlist

hour one - 9:00 PM

“i can’t believe you talked me into taking this short cut to the boneyard, this is creepy as fuck.” you shivered, regretting your shoe choice as the gravel crunched underneath your sandals. “you’ll be here in no time, i swear! did you pass that abandoned house on the left already?” you froze, glancing back at the isolated dirt path. “girl- i haven’t seen anything since i turned this way like fifteen minutes back.” your friend gasped on the other end of the line. “where the hell are you then?!” lizzie yelled, attempting to shout over the music in the background.

“you tell me!” you cursed under your breath when you got a low battery notification. “look, my phone is about to die, i’ll try to call when i get closer.” you hung up, spotting a clear field to cut through. up in the distance you could see what looked like headlights. “thank god.” you sighed, making your way over in hopes of getting a ride out of here. as you got closer, you started rethinking your decision when two men came into your view, one pushing the other onto the ground. “what the fuck?” you whispered to yourself, your heart dropping as the man that was standing up pulled out a gun.

“please don’t do this! i’ll never steal from you again, man. i swear!” you were stuck, your feet not moving no matter how hard you tried. “you didn’t just steal from me, you stole from my family.” the cock of the gun was loud enough for your heart to beat wildly in your chest. “please, i’m begging you!” terror flooded through your system when the man on his knees glanced up, pointing a finger at you before the sound of a chamber being emptied pierced through the chilly night air. you jumped, covering your ears as they rung. the man fell with a thud, the realization of what you’ve just seen made your breath catch in your throat.

“hey!” the guy with the gun started running towards you, sending a shock of fear down your spine as you stumbled back. you whimpered when the palms of your hands landed on the bed of grass below you, the man’s footsteps only getting closer with each second you stayed on the ground. finally, when he was close enough for you to make out his face, you bolted in the opposite direction, a scream leaving your lips when he grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling you against his front as he breathed against your skin. “you shouldn’t have seen that.” he traced your arm with the cold metal of his gun. “please, i won’t tell anyone, i was just trying to get to a party when i saw your truck. i thought you could help me out.” you whimpered.

“thought i could help you out?” he repeated, turning you around in his grip, “you’ve seen my truck, and now you’ve seen my face. i don’t want to do this but your pretty little self was just at the wrong place at the wrong time.” tears welled in your eyes as he held the gun up to your head. “i won’t go to the cops, i promise!” you cried, hands wrapping around his wrist. “i’ll forget all of this even happened.” truth be told, he really didn’t want to kill you. the second you saw his eyes soften, you knee’d him in the groin, pushing him in the chest as you took the gun from his hand. “sorry, not sorry!” you shouted, running as fast as you can while he groaned in pain. “you stupid fucking bitch!” he yelled, punching the ground in frustration.

you put the gun on safety mode, throwing it in your purse as you ran and didn’t stop until you reached what looked like the beach. sure enough as you got closer, you could hear the cheer of nearby partygoers. you sighed in relief, making your way to the center where lizzie and jj were sitting down at. “oh my god, are you alright?!” your best friend wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a hug while jj examined you closely. “dude, you look like you just climbed out of the woods or something.” you rolled your eyes at his words. “thanks, jayj.” you sat down, contemplating if whether or not you should tell lizzie what happened.

“i texted you like fifteen minutes ago to check on you!” she hit your arm playfully. your phone. you quickly patted yourself down, subtly looking through your small purse for the device, only to realize that you might’ve dropped it during the whole ‘escape from the killer!’ fiasco. “oh, fuck.” you whispered to yourself, lizzie and jj already back in their own little love bubble. meanwhile just on the other side of the island, rafe was seated in his truck, still sore from you kicking him in his manhood. he didn’t dwell on it too much, everything he needed to physically get ahold of you currently sat in the palm of his hand.

not only did rafe have your phone, but when he took off your phone case just to see your state id wrapped in a twenty dollar bill, he also had your full name along with your address.

hour ten - 7:00 AM

you barely slept a wink last night. after you got home from the party, you showered with the bathroom door open, way too paranoid to go over five minutes without looking out the window. you glanced at your purse, still not being able to bring yourself to open it. the flash backs of the man’s lifeless body falling to the ground was enough to keep you up. now, with the morning sun flooding through your bedroom, you knew had to get up at some point and get yourself together. “fuck.” you rubbed your eyes, quickly brushing your teeth before making your way to the small kitchen. washing some dishes from the day before, you stared out the window as you got lost in your thoughts.

he doesn’t know my name, how could he even find me? what if he found my phone with my id in it? eh, he’s probably too busy burying a body to worry about me.

“ouch!” you hissed, looking down to see that you accidentally cut yourself with one of the kitchen knives. “snap out of it.” you sighed to yourself, sucking on your finger as you looked through one of the drawers for a band aid. just as you spotted one, your heart stopped when you heard the familiar crunch of gravel in the driveway. your worst nightmare coming true when you saw the same black truck from last night parked outside. “no, no, no, no, no,” you ran to the front door, where you were met with a loud bang. “open up, y/n.” you paced around nervously, having no phone to call anyone for help. “leave me alone! i didn’t go to the police last night, and i won’t go to them ever, okay? please leave.”

“i can’t do that. you have something of mine, and i want it back.” you shuddered at the sound of his voice. “if you give me my gun, you’ll get your phone back. easy trade off.” that explains why he knew your name and where you lived. “you have my phone?” you wiped your eyes, walking closer to the trailer door. “i sure do, babe.” you debated with yourself, your breath quickening with each second you stayed silent. “will you leave me alone after this?” you unlocked the small latch, your heart beating in your ears as you opened the door, revealing the, rather beautiful, psycho that tried to kill you yesterday. “i’ll leave you alone. promise.” his eyes danced over your body. you were just in a tank top and underwear.

“i’ll be right back.” you took a deep breath, grabbing the gun out of your purse before returning back to him. when you opened the door once more, he was no where to be seen. “you make this too easy for me.” he clamped a hand over your mouth as he dragged you out of the living room and into your bedroom where he shoved you into the wall. you had no idea where the gun was pointing to, but you still pulled the trigger in a last minute effort to defend yourself. both of you jumped back, a bullet hole now adorning a spot next to your bed frame. you held the gun up, your hand shaking as you aimed at his head. “where’s my phone?” all the fear in your body was now replaced by anger. he held his hands up in defense, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“here,” he took the device out of his pocket, tossing it on your bed. “if i was going to rat you out i would’ve done it already,” you started, “this gun has my prints all over it, too. if i went to the cops with this i’d look just as guilty.” you watched as his face fell in realization. “i don’t even know your name.” you emptied the clip of the gun, the bullets falling to the floor with a clink. “rafe.” was all he said as you pushed the gun into his chest. “listen, rafe, i’m not a runner, i don’t run from anyone. you, however, killed somebody and i happened to witness it. that’s all. you got what you wanted now, so leave.” you grabbed your phone, walking past him to the kitchen.

“i believe you, but i can’t trust you. ‘not when i have too much to lose.” he followed you, unaware of the knife you had in your grip. “so make a move.” you turned around. rafe glanced at the knife in your hand, a smirk forming on his lips. “i’m into knifeplay, don’t threaten me with a good time.” he charged at you, knocking the weapon out of your grasp. before you could react, he wrapped a hand around your throat, lifting you up onto the counter as he started choking you out. your eyes widened while you frantically reached to the side for anything to hit him with. just as your vision started getting hazy, you felt the cast iron of your skillet on the stovetop, swinging it across his head. he fell instantly, his eyes fluttering shut as he his body slumped against the floor.

you rubbed the skin of your neck, tears running down your face as you fought to catch your breath. “oh, shit.” you whimpered, leaning down to check if he had a pulse. still alive, dammit. you leaned against the wall, trying to come up with something fast before he woke up. thirty minutes later, and you had him tied to a chair in the middle of your living room. “this will have to do.” you sighed, sticking a piece of tape over his mouth.

hour eighteen - 3:00 PM

“what the fuck?” rafe’s voice was raspy when he woke up, his eyes widening slightly as he spotted you staring at him from the couch. “what time it is?” he groaned, nearly knocking his chair over at how hard he was thrashing in it. “three o’ clock, which means you’ve been knocked out cold for eight hours.” you blinked. “eight hours?! what the fuck happened?” he looked around. you couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips. “what happened? you started choking me like a crazy person and i hit you with a skillet before you could actually kill me.” you moved closer, showing him the purple marks that now adorned your neck. apart of him hated that he did it, but it was too late to take it back now.

he licked his lips, cringing at the weird taste. “did i have tape on my mouth?” he grimaced. “yes, but you started breathing weird so i took it off.” you walked to the kitchen, rafe’s eyes glued to the way your jeans hugged your ass. “can you untie me?” he sighed when he heard you laugh. “not a chance,” you came back to the living room with a water bottle and a chair. “we’re gonna talk first before i let you go anywhere.” you took a seat in front of him, your knees knocking against his. you opened the water bottle, bringing it up to his lips. “i choked the shit out of you and you wanna give me water?” if he felt like crap before, he felt even worse now. “do you want it or not?” he nodded.

you hated how attractive you found him, the way he was gazing up at you right now made butterflies flutter in your tummy. once he hummed that he had enough, you leaned back in your seat. “before you shot that guy last night you said he stole something from your family. what was it?” rafe sighed, shaking his head. “why should i tell you?” he scoffed. “i’ll answer whatever questions you ask me in return.” you leaned forward, your cleavage making him uncomfortably hard in his cargo shorts. “any question?” you tilted your head. “yes, but answer mine first.” you ignored the smirk that lifted in the corner of his lips. “he stole gold,” rafe cleared his throat, “like a shit ton of it.” he swallowed.

“did you get it back?” you peered up at him through your eyelashes, completely oblivious to the tent in his shorts, or so he thought. “of course i did.” you shivered at the deep baritone of his voice. rafe knew both of you were treading dangerous territory as your looks started lingering a second longer, your fingers tracing his chin everytime he asked for more water. “what does one do with that much gold? when they’re already rich, i mean.” you licked your lips, resting your cheek in the palm of your hand. “get more richer.” he shrugged. “my turn.” rafe cleared his throat.

“you can’t go to the cops, and you can’t leave me tied here forever. what are you gonna do?” you sighed, spending the last eight hours asking yourself the same thing. “i don’t know, rafe. if i let you go, you might try to kill me again.” he watched you carefully, guilt settling in his gut. “i won’t do anything, i swear i’ll-” you cut him off, “you said that last time.” rafe’s eyes flickered down to your neck, his jaw clenching. “nah, you have my word.” even though he looked sincere, you knew better than to give in right away. “no.” you got up, grabbing your purse as you made your way to the front door. “woah, where are you going?” rafe started pulling at the restraints, shouting after you as you walked out your trailer.

hour twenty three - 8:00 PM

the last thing you expected to see when you got home was rafe lying on his side, staring at nothing as you rushed over to help him up. “what the hell?” you grunted, pulling the chair up. “i tried to get out of this.” he looked completely defeated as you pulled your hair out of your face. “yeah, i can see that,” you placed the bag of food you had on the kitchen table, returning with a pair of scissors. “y/n, it’s been well over a day since my last meal, just let me go i swear i’ll be out of your hair.” he swallowed dryly. kneeling down on the floor, you started cutting the ropes from the chair, mumbling a ‘don’t make me regret this.’

rafe stared wide eyed as you set him free, immediately backing away from him as he rolled his shoulders back. “your keys are on the small table by the front door.” you were practically trembling with fear when he loomed over you. with a gentle hand, he softly traced your face, his fingers trailing down your neck to touch the bruises there. “i’m sorry.” rafe whispered. not knowing how to respond, you simply blinked with a small nod. “i got you something to eat in the kitchen,” you motioned towards the white paper bag with a burger and fries in it. rafe looked at you as if he couldn’t believe you were real.

“you bought me food?” you relaxed when he stepped away, his hands on his head as he slowly paced back and forth. “yes..” your voice came out small. rafe was quiet for a minute before he looked at you with a look that sent shivers down your spine, except this time it wasn’t out of terror. “do you want to play a game, y/n?” he eyed your frame, loving the way your tits looked in that pretty tube top of yours. “i’m kind of tired of games, don’t you think we’ve played cat and mouse long enough?” you smiled softly when he laughed. “while you do have a point, this is a game that you win regardless.” rafe watched as you let your hair down from it’s claw clip, “why not?”

“i’m sure you’re familiar with hide and seek?” your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “of course i’m familiar, but why that one?” you questioned. “well here’s the thing; i’m gonna count to sixty and give you one minute to hide. if i don’t find you in two minutes, you’ll never have to worry about me showing up at your doorstep again, but if i do find you.. i fuck you.” you were immediately taken aback, your heart pounding in your ears as he got close to you once again. any normal person would immediately reject, not even giving it a second thought before declining, but a large part of you was thrilled at the idea of being hunted down. only when your life didn’t actually depend on it, of course.

you looked up at him, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as a nervous habit. “okay.” rafe smiled devilishly. “run.” his eyes were dark when the word left his mouth. “w-what?” you stuttered, panic coursing through your veins. “i said fucking run.” he said through gritted teeth, your feet moving as he started counting down. you ran into the bedroom, cursing under your breath as you look around for a concealed hiding spot. you lived in a trailer for god’s sake, you had limited space. choosing your best bet, you squeezed into your closet, bringing your knees up to your chest as the words ‘ready or not, here i come!’ echoed in your ears.

you could hear shuffling in the bathroom and the kitchen, your eyes screwing shut as his foot steps got closer to your room. rafe was already a minute down. just as you thought he was going to walk away, the door to your closet swung open.

hour twenty four - 9:00 PM

“gotcha.”

[nadvs]

both sinners (part three) (end)

pairing drugdealer! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug use

summary as a stripper, you’re well aware that someone you know could walk into the club at any moment. when rafe is your newest customer, you’re actually glad to see a familiar face.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You stagger backwards, hitting the table behind you, as you watch what’s happening in front of you in disbelief.

Rafe is crazed, punching the man who touched you over and over and over again.

“What now, bitch?” he shouts over the music. “Try and touch her now!”

One of the bouncers comes rushing towards the booth and holds Rafe back. It’s a struggle, with Rafe overpowering him and getting one more punch in, before a second bouncer helps to constrain him.

You watch them push him away. Rafe looks to meet your eyes, his chest heaving and his mouth ajar, as he gets pushed out of the club.

You blink in incredulity, unsure of what to do, until you finally go backstage into the dressing room to regain your composure.

You’ve never seen someone so angry over something someone else did to you.

You know what happens to guys that get thrown out. Rafe won’t be let back in for at least the night. It’s possible he doesn’t get let in ever again.

You pull your phone out of your locker and text him: i’m off at 11. we can meet somewhere?

You go back out onto the stage, looking for another customer to make your money and try to shake off what just happened, at least for the rest of your shift.

After work, you meet Rafe at the address he texted you after he was kicked out. He booked a room at a five-star hotel.

“You know, you didn’t have to start swinging,” you tell him when he meets you in the lobby, a coy smile on your face. “We have bouncers for that.”

“They’re obviously doing a great fucking job,” he snips sarcastically. “He grabbed you twice.”

“And I slapped him twice,” you reply. He shakes his head in irritation, taking your hand to lead you to the elevators. Thinking about watching you get touched like that makes the anger swirl in him all over again.

“Not hard enough.”

“So protective,” you tease.

Rafe pushes the top button. You smirk. Of course he got the penthouse suite.

“You realize if they remember what you look like, they might never let you back in, right?” you say as the elevator doors close, leaving you completely alone in the enclosed space.

“Strip at another club, then,” he rasps, leaning down and dragging his hand off of yours to squeeze your ass.

“You think it’s that easy?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

“What place wouldn’t want you?” Rafe asks, gripping harder as he pulls you against him, his lips an inch away from yours.

The way he looks at you makes you feel like he’s utterly obsessed with you. It’s addictive.

The elevator doors open and he slaps your ass to usher you out.

The suite he booked is massive, covered in marble surfaces and gold decor. Rafe leads you through the foyer to the bedroom, where the city lights glimmer behind floor-to-ceiling windows. The place is exquisite.

“Couldn’t you have found something nicer, baby?” you joke, turning to look at him.

He scoffs a chuckle as he closes the distance, hands already up your skirt. He’s been turned on since you stepped on stage hours ago, imagining how hard he’s going to fuck you.

Rafe kneads your ass before roughly pulling the skirt up to your waist. He thinks back to the way the sheer fabric of the dress you wore on stage hugged your body under the club’s lights.

“You know what?” he says.

“What?” Your breath hitches as his hand presses up against your middle.

“I’m gonna buy you more of those slutty little outfits.” His voice is low. “So while you’re dancing up there, you think about who bought you what you’re wearing and who fucks you.”

By the way his cock is hardening against you and the way his breath is spreading on your skin in shallow pants, you can tell he gets off on spoiling you.

You lick your lips and tilt your head, nudging your nose against his.

“I’m the only one fucking you, right?” he mutters, his fingers pressing harder. You love how frequently he likes confirming it.

“Why would I need anyone else?” you reply, loving how you can rile him up.

When his fingers spread your lips apart, you exhale shakily.

“Only I can play with this pussy, yeah?” He rubs over your wetness and finds your clit, making your knees weak.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Yes.”

“You gonna dance for me, baby?” Rafe rasps. “I’ll give you more tonight than your customers make in a year.”

You nod, words escaping you. You feel him unzip your skirt, the fabric dropping around your feet. You pull your top over your head, left in just a bra and panties, and his eyes take you in as if it’s the first time he’s seeing you.

“Damn,” he huffs. It’s unbelievable how much you turn him on. The fact that you know how sexy you are, dancing every night for men who you don’t let touch you. Only he can touch you. “How are you real?”

You giggle, regaining some composure.

“Sit down,” you say, looking at the big bed.

“Over there,” Rafe tells you, pulling you to follow him. He takes you to the bathroom, where you spot a baggie of coke beside the jacuzzi.

Once you strip down between hard, wet kisses, you sink into the hot, bubbling water. You straddle him and he gazes at you through heavy lids.

“You want a bump?” Rafe asks, tilting his head towards the coke. He already took a hit before you arrived.

You nod, craving the feeling of elation the coke gives you. He grips your waist with one hand while he reaches for the baggie with the other.

After he makes a line on the edge of the tub for you, you lean over and inhale the powder, giving him an opportunity to palm your tits.

He loves the way your skin glistens from the water as you settle back on his lap. Your head is swimming with euphoria as you kiss him, his fingers rubbing over your nipples. You start to writhe, rolling your hips and giving him a lap dance.

You dip your hand under the water’s surface, gripping his firm length, prompting him to angle his head back with a groan over the sound of the tub’s jets, his voice echoing through the room.

You can’t wait any longer. You perch up to slowly sink onto him, his tip dipping into your entrance.

“Fuck,” Rafe huffs. Your hands are on his shoulders as you take your time, breathing through the pressure of his cock stretching you.

“Good girl,” he groans. “You can take it all. I know you can.”

You bite your lip as you finally reach his base, dizzy from how deep he hits you, enveloped by hot water.

You start to rock on him and his mouth locks around the peak of your breast. He loves the feeling of pure sin while he fucks you, both of you high and rolling.

You rake his hair back, leaning so your chest presses against his forehead as you start to bounce on him, panting in his ear.

Rafe’s hands curve around your ass as you roll on top of him, the water splashing as you quicken your pace. You start moaning and he squeezes you harder, his face contorting in pleasure.

You moan in his ear as you come to a fast orgasm, clenching around him in flutters. He hardens inside of you soon after, cumming in rhythmic throbs.

“Goddamn,” he groans, thinking back to all the parties he noticed you at. “I can’t believe this is what I was missing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t know you were this much fun.”

You giggle and the sight of your smile makes him smile back.

“Now you know,” you say with a shrug.

You’re absolutely spent when you lie on the plush bed, body bare and wet, not bothering to cover up with a towel. Rafe loves the sight of you like this and he leans down, smoothing over your cheek with his hand as he kisses you.

“We’re getting room service,” he murmurs. “What do you want?”

“The most expensive thing on the menu,” you joke. He’s unfazed, pacing to the phone surely to order exactly that.

“Wait,” you laugh. “Let me see the menu.���

Half-naked and high, you and Rafe sit on top of the bed, the television on in the background, eating at midnight.

It must be the coke and the sex and the delicious five-star food, but you get the impulse to ask what you’ve been wondering all night.

“We both know you’re the only guy I’m seeing,” you say, “but am I the only girl?”

“Obviously,” he says simply.

“It’s not so obvious,” you say with a laugh.

“Now it is,” Rafe says. You appreciate his direct approach.

“Why do you deal?” you ask. Seeing his house just once would tell anyone he comes from a wealthy family. He doesn’t exactly need to be selling drugs.

Blue eyes meet yours and he smirks.

“Why, you wanna go into business?” he quips.

“I think I make enough dating you,” you respond with a laugh. Rafe likes how exclusive it sounds. Dating. Meaning you’re his only.

“I like making my own money,” he says honestly. “And I like having coke around when I want it.”

“You’re a no bullshit type of guy.” Rafe appreciates the compliment.

“Why do you strip?” he asks.

“Why, you wanna go into business?” you echo.

“Shut the fuck up,” he laughs, nudging you. You decide you’ve eaten enough, letting the gentle push shift you to lie on your back again.

“You’re hot. You’d do great as a stripper,” you tease, raising your arms above your head and sighing. He takes in the vision of you lying like this, relaxed and joking around with him, and he realizes he hasn’t felt this happy in a while.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Rafe says.

“It’s great money,” you reply. “Especially if you have a rich drug dealer obsessed with you. It’s funny because you’re the only customer I’d dance for for free.”

He laughs again and you look over at him, sitting up shirtless, and smile. It feels like something out of a movie. A drug dealer and his stripper girlfriend laughing together in an extravagant hotel room.

Rafe moves the paper containers off the bed and sinks between your legs, laying his head on your chest.

You run your hands over his firm, warm shoulders and sigh at the sensation he gives you. He seems to live for the next 24 hours only, and so do you, and this is why this works so well.

He gives you a wad of cash before you part ways.

Your next shift is a few nights after your time in the hotel and Rafe is relieved the bouncers don’t recognize him. He settles in a cushioned chair in the dark club, knowing if they denied him entry, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and it would get ugly.

His heart skips when you walk out in stage wearing a black lacy set he bought you. You drift around the pole like a goddess, slowly undressing, making him hard in seconds.

Rafe looks away when you approach a man sitting in a booth. He might break someone’s jaw if he watches you dance on them, especially if they touch you.

He knows your interest in these guys isn’t genuine, remembering how you told him he’s the only one you’d dance for for free. This will just be a shitty part of dating you, and compared to the good parts, he can take this.

A few minutes later, you walk over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” you say over the throbbing music. “Thought I should tell you that guy just asked for a private room. Don’t freak out.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens as he takes a pull of his drink. You notice his irritation immediately, leaning over to speak into his ear.

“This is just work,” you say. “I can’t wait to clock out so we can fuck like we did in that hotel room.” His lips quirk up in a smile.

“I’ll break his hands if he tries anything,” he warns. You believe him.

After your shift, you and Rafe head to a party at one of the mansions sitting on the north side of the island.

But instead of leading you to the front door, he pulls you to the dark, empty shoreline, and you can tell by the look on his face that he’s turned on.

“On the beach?” you say, amused.

“You said we’d fuck, didn’t you?”

When you find a place on the sand, the night sky nearly starless, the waves crashing, you pull each other’s bottoms off with fervor.

Rafe’s on top of you, breaths shallow as he nips at your shoulder, guiding himself into you with a hunger deep inside him. It seems the more he has you, the more desperate he gets.

“I was hard all fucking night watching you dance,” he mutters, sinking into you, inch by inch.

“Fuck,” you whisper, tilting your hips, sinking into the sand. “Fuck, that feels good.”

“Who else can do this to you?”

“Nobody,” you answer. “I’m all yours, baby.”

“Yeah, you fucking are,” he says, pulling back and thrusting into you. His hand grips around your neck as he pounds you, claiming you with every slam.

You mean it. You’re his, happily.

After you make your way up to the house party, Rafe pulls you onto his lap the second he finds a seat on the massive balcony facing the darkened beach where you just fucked.

A man comes by asking for a gram and Rafe pulls out his bagged coke, trading it for bills. After the deal, he places a few twenties in your pocket, kissing the side of your neck.

You still feel the sand on your skin as he skims your leg with rough fingertips.

Maybe you’d be ashamed doing this with another man, being paid for sex and getting spoiled and doing drugs and fucking every chance you get.

But with Rafe, the sin is so sweet that it doesn’t feel wrong at all. You’ll happily live in the next 24 hours with him, over and over and over again.

(the end)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[laurorne]

༊*·˚ VALYRIAN STEEL | aegon ii targaryen x sister! reader (imagine) summary: aegon seems like a lousy husband but a devout lover, lesbereal warnings: nsfw, minors dni, targaryen incest, top!reader, smut, p in v, riding, slight masochism, a tiny bit of a blood kink? word count: 0.6k a/n: man i love tom glynn carey. also im desperate to write stuff but i have no ideas 😭

Aegon II Targaryen is a messy brother. With his choppily cut hair and his dire need to do well by you, you find him endearing more oft than not. He is far from the perfect son, or the shining example of a prince. But he is loyal, to his family, to his dragon, to you.

He is messy in the sense that he's barely put together, with last minute gifts that fall apart before his eyes and half-thought out plans. Like the time he had the Conquerors crown pulled from the Red Keeps vaults, only to have the rubies removed and placed into a heavy Valyrian steel necklace —the steel from a smelted ceremonial blade mind you— accompanied by moonstones imported from the Summer Isles.

Your grandsire had yelled for a good twenty minutes before his breath left him and he needed to rest, the old fart. And your mother… oh gods she had nearly yelled both your ears out, and you hadn’t even known about the gift until he sheepishly presented it to you. The nameday surprise ruined now.

After that series of events, you'd found yourself wearing that necklace nearly everyday, having dresses altered just to accommodate the sheer size and intricacy of the piece. You barely took it off, the jangling of the layered metal became a comfort over the years of your marriage.

Like right now.

Your hips roll in a slow, wide circle. Your hands pinning his chest to the bed as you work yourself atop him. He's flushed red across his neck and chest, cheeks ruddy as he pants into the night air, Adams apple bobbing deliciously as he fails to swallow down the noises he's making.

"Not much t- to say now, hmm?" You glance down at him, licking your lips as you scratch your nails down his chest and stomach.

His breath hitches at a particularly fast roll of your hips, his hands pawing at the flesh of your hips as he dares to take a peak up at you. "I don't have much to say, when you- when-"

You purposely speed up, lifting your hips only to roll back down onto him, your tits bouncing and your necklace clinking. The scarlet rubies catching what little moonlight they can as you use Aegon like a common whore.

"What was that, my sweet husband?"

"You're a cruel sister." He catches his breath, finally. His fingers pinching at the skin on your hipbone, his other hand skating over your stomach and up to your tit as you lean down into his face.

"I'm only as cruel as you are wanting."

He squeezes your breast in a soft hand, thumbing your nipple as you begin slowing your pace again. Edging him to his finish, oh-so slowly.

He hums, his thighs tensing beneath you as you pinch roughly at his nipple. He arches up into the touch as you flick over it with a nail, taking in the way his brows pinch together and his lashes flutter.

You surge forwards to catch his lips in a kiss, all teeth clashing and messy tongue. He bites down on your lip a bit too hard and you can feel the release of tension in the soft skin as blood meets your tongue.

You breathe out, pulling away by a breadths width as you begin swirling your hips, his dick heavy in your cunt as you watch a droplet of blood land on his chin. He's grinning up at you stupidly, a string of reddish spit linking your lips together before he cups the side of your face and drags you back in.

Tonguing at the cut on your lip as he moans, hips rocking up into yours finally. The other wrapping around your middle as he begins fucking up into you, punching a breath out of your lungs as he devours you.

Aegon was a messy husband, and an even messier lover. But by the Seven, did you love it.

[batarella]

Bruce's Bathtime - Batfamily Sitcom

Bruce's mistake was thinking he could have a peaceful night in the bath on his day off when his manor is full of kids who share one brain.

A/N: HELLO EVERYONE I LOVE YOU AND IM SORRY I DISAPPEARED BUT I WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING SWEET FOR YOU TO ENJOY. THIS IS HEAVILY INSPIRED BY "BATH" BY SAM AND MICKEY ON YOUTUBE.

WORDS: 1.7K

WARNINGS: NONE. IT'S WHOLESOME AND SWEET.

MASTERLIST

——-

Crime rates were always at an all-time low in time for the Superbowl.

Which meant Batman gets a day off. Duke was the only one on patrol that night. Alfred spent half an hour convincing him not to spend the night at the cave.

“Master Bruce, the bath has been drawn and I’ve taken the liberty of using the expensive lavender bath salts so you would not like to waste it.”

“You’re right, Alfred. I’m a billionaire and I find the fifty-dollar lavender salts a waste to not use.”

“Just get in the bath, Master Wayne. Just thirty minutes of quiet shall do you good. I’ve set an alarm.”

Since when did Bruce start working for him?

He did as told anyway. Bruce closed the bathroom door and stripped off his clothes to get in the tub. There were so many callouses in his body, he barely felt just how burning the temperature was.

It was just a minute in there when the first knock woke him from drifting off.

“Bruce?”

What the hell is Dick doing out of Bludhaven? “What?”

“Is the music room haunted?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I heard something inside.”

“Instruments tend to do that.”

“I did a headcount of everyone in the manor and everyone is accounted for except Duke who you sent out for patrol so I doubt it’s anyone but a ghost,” Dick said.

“Get out.”

“But I’m not even inside the bathroom.”

“Go away.”

“What if it’s not a ghost? What if it’s a spy?”

“The manor has more advanced security systems than the Pentagon, Dick.”

“That’s not a good point of comparison.”

Bruce closed his eyes and let the steam slow his rising blood pleasure.

“Just check the room. Could have been the wind.”

“I’m too scared.”

This man was almost thirty and was still giving Bruce the same amount of aneurysms as when he was eight.

“Ask Alfred to check for you.”

“Okay.”

He heard fading footsteps and let them lull him into sleep. He set his large arms onto the sides of the tub, sinking his mouth under the water.

“Father,” a voice said from out the door followed by three soft knocks by a small hand.

“What, Damian?”

“I need you to sign this letter from the school headmaster.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He doubted that.

“It’s for a parent-teacher conference.”

Bruce let the silence answer for him until Damian gave in.

“Someone attacked me in class.”

“Damian-“

“Okay, I threw the first punch but he taunted me first about how I was small for my age but I said that I’m of perfect size for my age and that I’m simply too smart to be crowded into elementary school children when my intellect belongs to that of a senior and then he asked what I was doing here and not in 5th grade and I said what was he doing here and not in 5th grade and he spat at me and now his nose is broken and they want you to cover the medical bills.”

Christ.

“Maybe you don’t have to pay it. You can call them yourself. You’re Bruce Wayne. You can get away with anything.”

“I can, but you’re not Bruce Wayne, so you have to deal with it.”

“Can you just sign this, Father?”

“Fine.”

Damian walked in, fanning the steam off his face and covering his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see his own father naked, then handed him the letter to sign it.

“Make sure your handwriting is the same as when I forged it.”

His eyes could not have rolled further back into his skull.

The boy walked out, just two seconds before the next set of voices made him wish the gunman shot him in the head four decades ago and not just his parents.

“Bruce, could you tell Jason he’s not the only one who died and come back to life and that his robin costume doesn’t deserve to have to top display in the Batcave anymore especially since he’s here?” Tim said.

Jason’s voice was even more obnoxious. “I died first, asshole and no one else would have died if it weren’t for me so clearly, you should thank me. And my rebranding was better. You’re still technically a robin since, you know, it’s the other half of your name, so you don’t deserve to be memorialized.”

“You don’t deserve to be memorialized at all when you’re alive and not a memory. You’re not even the first robin.”

“You’re not the first anything.”

“I’m the first at a lot of things.”

“Replacement.”

“Glorified zombie.”

Bruce grabbed the cucumbers Alfred had laid out on the table next to him just so his eyes wouldn’t burst out in blood at how much he wanted to scream.

“Ask Alfred what to do,” Bruce said.

“Alfred is with Dick in the music room to look for ghosts. We need an answer now.”

“What do you even want me to do?”

“Tim threw my robin costume piled up with all their robin costumes when clearly, it should be in the display case,” Jason said. “And Tim wants to move my motorbike out of the cave.”

“You have so many motorbikes, would it hurt you to move just one?”

“No.”

“Bruce!”

Bruce counted to ten. “No.”

“No to what?”

“Everything.”

“You don’t even know what you’re saying no to.”

“I could not care any less.”

“Can we please come in?”

“No, I’m naked.”

“We’ve seen you naked.”

“Not on purpose.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Fine. Fine. We’ll get glass cases for both of you and we’ll pretend it’s a shrine as if you’re still dead. Happy?”

“Not from dying but sure,” said Tim.

“What about the motorbikes?”

“Put it outside,” said Bruce.

“Are you sure? What if someone sees?”

“Do whatever. Throw out the T-Rex in the cave for all I care.”

“Also, I need access to the batcomputers,” Jason said.

“For what?”

“Everyone else has access except me.”

“That’s for a reason, Jason.”

“Pretty please.”

“Get out.”

It took another five minutes of the two yapping at the other side of the door before it finally quieted down.

Then his phone started ringing. Duke.

That was when his blood pressure really started to spike.

“Duke? Is everything alright? What’s wrong?” he said to the phone.

“Me?” said Duke. “Oh yeah everything’s great! Not much crime when everyone’s watching the halftime show.”

“Then why’d you call?”

“Can I use the batmobile?”

Fuck a duck. “For what?”

“The streets are empty and you said I could drive it when there isn’t traffic.”

He hung up and threw the phone into the water before Duke could say anything else.

He had five minutes of quiet this time. Then Steph was at the door. “Bruce!”

An aneurysm. One of these days, he might actually have one.

“What now?”

“Can I change rooms?”

“Why?”

“Dick said there’s a ghost in the music room and my room is like five feet away and I don’t think I can sleep there anymore.”

“You slept there last night and everything is fine.”

“Ghosts can be quiet, Bruce, it doesn’t mean they’re not there. And you’ve made a lot of enemies, so I won’t be surprised if anyone’s settled in to haunt you.”

You’d think he wasn’t in a house full of vigilantes who fight the city’s most dangerous criminals.

“I haven’t killed anyone, Stephanie. I keep all my enemies alive.”

“What if it’s not your enemy? They don’t have to hate you to haunt you. Can I please just change rooms?”

“Move wherever you want. I don’t care.”

“Can I move to the bedroom at the west wing?”

“That’s mine,” Bruce said.

“You have a bedroom? I thought you never slept.”

“Fine. Take it. Just get out.”

“Really?” Steph squealed. “The master bedroom. Sweet!”

It took less than five seconds before the next reason for his headache started pounding at the door.

“Bruce! Jason is trying to hack into the batcomputer!”

“I did not!”

“He did!”

“The World’s Greatest Detective is just mad I guessed his password on the second try.”

Bruce sank into the water, drowning their yapping until it had blurred out. He held his breath for seven minutes straight. He could die. That wouldn’t be the worst thing. Just when it was finally quiet, again, Bruce rose up and found Damian sitting on the toilet.

He continued to look unbothered even when he looked at Bruce straight in the eye.

“Do you mind?”

“I’d like to use this toilet.”

“There’s fifteen bathrooms in the manor, Damian.”

“I like this one.”

“I understand I have not spent as much time with you, but this is not what your tutors mean by father-son bonding.”

“Oh no, don’t worry. I don’t mean to bond with you. I just like this toilet.”

“Fine. Please. Take your time.”

He did take his time. Damian sat there for a whole five minutes and pulled out a book.

“I wasn’t being serious. Get out of here.”

“Relax, father. It’s your day off.”

Bruce eyelids fluttered closed and he refused to open them until his son left the bathroom.

The next knock made a blood vessel pop. “Bruce. It’s me Barb. So sorry to bother you but I found another group of conspiracy theorists on the TikTok who made a list of billionaires who have never been seen in the same room as Batman and you’re the front liner of that list. I know you told me to never engage with these things but it’s at fifty million views right now and they’re making edits of you as Batman.”

“Make more bot accounts and pin it on Elon.”

“On it,” said Barbara. “So sorry to have disturbed you!”

He’s going to have a talk with Alfred to block off the whole floor the next time he draws these baths.

“Bruce?” It was Cass. “I hope it’s alright if I take Steph’s room. I took the liberty of putting a speaker in the music room so Dick would tell everyone there was a ghost in the manor and Steph would move out.”

The alarm went off. His thirty minutes were up.

 One of these days, Bruce might finally break his no-kill rule, and it won’t be for the Joker.

---

A/N: I MISSED ALL OF YOU ASSHOLES AND I HOPE THIS WON'T BE THE LAST

TAGLIST

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[mikobeautifulheart]

How about JJK Men touching your weak spot, like on ur back or something in public and it makes you jump and them laugh.

IDK what ever you want to write but something like that.

TEHEHE YESSSS

Not edited btw :(

Weak spot

Including: Yuji and Yuta

Yuji

You were standing at the door to Yuji's dorm. He told you earlier that he would be 5 minutes late and that you could just head inside.

Was he sure, could you really just freely walk in? I mean what if he left stuff out that your not meant to see...or if he left his things out and forgot about it.

You reached out to turn the door knob before pushing the door open slowly. Everything was...normal. Clean, neat, nothing out of the ordinary actually. You walked in quietly, this place was to quiet to clean...there's got to be something he's hiding.

Well he is Yuji, he wouldn't hid anything...would he?

First you looked under the couch.

Then his desk draws.

And then in the book shelfs.

Nothing. Maybe you were just to caught up in trying to find anything interesting, in reality you knew there probably wasn't even anything there.

Finally you opened his bed room door and were about to peek under the bed when you felt something gently run down your spine making you jump slightly.

You heard Yuji's laugh "Your spine really is your weak spot"

You stood up and grabbed the pillow off of his bed and whacked him with it.

"YUJI YOU SCARED ME!"

"HEY! CALM DOWN" He said wrapping his arms around you, pushing you on his bed, his body on top.

"What were you looking for?" He asked

"Mmm nothing Yuji, I was just looking around. I guess I was right, you don't seem like a guy who hides things"

"I don't need to hide anything from you babe, I have nothing to hide" He said smiling while kicking his old Jenifer Lawrence poster under his bed.

(He forgot to throw it out before you got there)

Yuta

You were sent on a mission with your boyfriend, last one of the day. You were practically on edge after the past few nights with little to no sleep. Worked to the bone and tiered.

You and Yuta had pretty much finished the mission, but there were still traces of cursed energy so you both spilt up.

Man this sucks.

You swore as soon as this was over you were going to collapse into Yuta's arms and sleep all the way back home. But in the mean time you just had to hurry and finish this mission.

Walking down the hall way you heard something inside of a room, that was it, it was the last curse. It would be an easy kill, if only you could find the damn thing first.

You swung open the door and was hit with a wave of exhaustion hit you making your eye lids get heavier. Your vision blurred and your limbs became heavier.

"Not now" You mumbled to yourself seeing the curse move away in the corner of your sight.

You stumbled into the middle of the room and swung your arm aimlessly, managing to punch right through the curses body.

A sigh escaped your lips. Finally. Or so you thought until you felt overwhelming cursed energy behind you. Before you could turn around and react you felt a small poke on the small of your back making you jump and your knees go weak, body falling slowly backwards into something...you close your eyes to just accept your fate at this point only to be met with the sound of a light hearted chuckle.

"Y-Yuta, you rat. You know that's my weak spot" You mumbled looking up at him, seeing his smile.

"Sorry, sorry I couldn't help it." He lifted your body up bridal style and carried you out the building.

"Where's Ichi when you need him" Yuta said looking down to see you peacefully sleeping.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: So random but i'm dying with out requests, I only have two more to write and I've nearly finished them. PLEASE.

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

QUARTER-FINALS MATCH 2

Elliott propaganda:

“Just look at him. Pure hunk energy.”

“I will punch anyone who dislikes him. He’s like a fire emblem character in the modern day. He’s so flamboyant and handsome, he can play the piano and he’s best friends with the old fishing man!”

“dramatic writer man with sexy hair”

"Since I like elliott. I will state some reasons why I like him

Imagine if Mr. Darcy didn’t insult your family first time you met him, that’s Elliott. The man who’s basically the hallmark romance love interest. He’s a writer who moves to the small town in the country side to find inspiration for his writing. Then he finds the farmer.

He has a crab living in his pocket

He can play the piano (hopefully it isn’t the river flows in you however)

His fans sometimes hc him as a merman and that’s just a major plus IMO

He genre of the book he writes is dependent on what genre you say you like.

He also sends letters to you if you marry him

Okay and also some things I dislike

His liked gifts, the easiest one is pomegranates, which cost like 6000g to grow a tree if you don’t pick the fruit cave. I AM NOT GETTING SQUID INK IN YEAR ONE FOR YOU.

he might be British /j

The fact he has no kitchen but still likes food like lobster, like he is just a mystery. Lives in a cabin, with no kitchen, no washroom (okay no character has a washroom), but still likes the most fancy food out there and has luscious hair worthy of a L’Oréal ad.

Gifting him on rainy days when you don’t have two hearts"

Asra propaganda:

“He GIVES AWAY HALF HIS HEART TO REVIVE YOU okay but like. He's the MCs roommate and they were together for a few years before the MC caught a plague and died and he obsesses over a way to bring them back before succeeding by making a deal with a god to trade half his heart for MC and betraying the emperor. And then when MC comes back but without any of their memories, he takes care of them and teaches them how to live all over again and he never asks for anything in return. On all the routes where you don't choose him he's really supportive and helps you out despite your history and overall he's just really nice and supportive of the MC and is their rock no matter what route you go down. Also he has a pet snake named Faust and I love her she's so <33 

Idk I just appreciate him so much”

"He gave you half his HEART!! He would literally go to hell and back for you!! He wants to take you on adventures all around the world—doesn’t matter where, as long as he’s by your side!! AND he’s nonbinary!!!"

"He is so caring!! Anyone who says he is boring or his 'route' was boring is a LIAR or didn't really understand his character! He is such a sweet person

Asra propaganda on this poll doesn't even do him any justice!! He makes friends wherever he travels to , likes knitting for his familiar snake , is a sweetheart, WILL take care of you even in the lowest point of your life"

[sykosugu]

♤♢ on the run ♧♡ | five

♤ summary: she's an infamous bank robber, and he's the only detective that's been able to get close to her. he was never apart of her plans. but he's got his clutches in her and she can't let go.a geto suguru au

♢ warnings: this story will contain descriptions of violence, destructive behavior, toxic behavior, illegal activities, sexual content, death. use of weapons. forbidden romance

♧ aw: character death (not mc), blood, violence, ooc toji,

♡ currently: completed

♤ taglist: closed

♢ wc: 2.3k

♧ carlile speaks: omg we have arrived at the end of Sugu and Ruby's story. Im not sure how some of you will react to this part but I'm excited to find out! thank you all so much for the love over the course of this story. this was my first post in the jjk fandom and I feel like I was welcomed with open arms. I love and appreciate every single one of you in this community I've built. thank you all again for deeming me worthy of your time! see you in the next story! ALSO a big thank you to @celestie0 for helping me with this final chapter. I would not have done it without you!

♡: previous part | you are here

Toji Fushiguro was your best friend. Or at least you thought he was. Toji was a contact you made when you were eighteen years old, fresh out of highschool and right after your parents had kicked you out. Claiming they don’t want to enable your lifestyle. Doing drugs with your friends, until the drugs no longer interested you. Then came the shoplifting. That’s where you shined. You could steal anything. Chanel. Prada. Louis V. Any of it. What can you say, you wanted the best of the best. 

You’d been staying with some of your “friends” you’d made along the way. Friends who more so wanted you to live the life they were living; sitting at home getting high all day, but you wanted the action. You wanted to be in the trenches. Wanted the thrill of the job, not the fabricated thrill from the drugs. You wanted the real high.

Toji was someone you ran into at the right time, he needed someone to train to help with small bank heists and you needed somewhere new to stay.

Toji was there for you. He housed you, kept you fed. Kept you happy, in so many more ways than one. He gave you an immense amount of knowledge. How to keep your cool. How to handle a weapon. How to make yourself into a weapon. 

“You are your biggest asset, use it.” rings in your ears during every job. 

All of the hand to hand combat you’d learned was taught to you by him. He was the first person you’d ever unintentionally kicked their ass.

“Again,” he pants, wiping the blood from his nose on the back of his hand, a sick smile on his face. He flexes his hands before balling them back into fists, taking his standing position; arms up in front of his face.

“Toji,” you warn. “I think we got th–,” you start to object, but Toji isn't having any of that.

“Again.”

And so you do. You continuously knock this grown man to the floor. His eyes grow with adoration after every punch; every kick. He was so proud. Nobody was ever able to land a blow, much less knock him off his feet. But you were so quick and nimble, he was hardly able to keep track of you. 

You’d originally only ever used masks and weapons to rob your banks, but when you met Toji your entire perception of the way you could do everything changed. He was the one who taught you to hide most of your face. Only leave behind minor details they can use. Always follow them into the room, never be the first. And always leave last. 

Toji was beyond proud of you. That’s why when you’d met Sukuna and immediately fell for his charm, his attitude changed. He was less than thrilled. It wasn’t a shock to him that he’d fallen for you, but it wasn't something he’d planned on either. He thought you’d had the chemistry, but his timing was all off. You’d met Sukuna. He didn’t anticipate someone else scooping you up the way he wanted to. Toji wanted everything with you, he was training you to be able to reign with him, not somebody else. Toji needed a way to be close to you, so he became Sukuna’s right hand. His business partner. Working his ass off to get the position he’s in now. Practically kissing Sukuna’s ass in order to be near you. Taking job after stupid job to prove himself worthy.

If only Toji had been honest with you from the start.

Sukuna was greedy. He had everything but needed more. Craved it even. Then he met you and needed to have you too.

But you showed him up. Toji had trained you beyond what anyone had ever seen before. You made Sukuna feel small; and that just wasn’t going to fly. Sukuna wanted you to keep his bed warm more than anything since he found out you were more skilled than him. Sukuna tried his best to kill your spirit; slowly of course. Taking you off of jobs, telling you that your skillset wasn't as good as others and you were not needed anymore. He tried distracting you with money and shopping sprees that worked for a while, but you eventually run out of things to buy when you have the access to buy anything you want. He even made sure to make you question your own physical appearance by slyly flirting with other members of his team in front of you; then gaslighting you into thinking you were seeing things. 

Toji held you when you cried to him. He’d smooth his hands up and down your back as you sobbed into his chest. How he’d wish you would see how terribly you were being treated. But if sukuna found out he was speaking ill of him, he'd be dealt with. So he held out for as long as he could, but you were the first one to break. You wanted to leave and live a life of your own. Toji was so happy for you, but wanted that life with you. He’d never told you any of these things, in fear of rejection from you and in fear of retaliation from his now boss.

Toji wishes you’d never introduced him to Sukuna. Toji wishes you’d be his. Toji’s world fell apart when he found out you were making beds with a cop. The actual enemy. He thought you’d be smarter than that. 

When Sukuna informed Toji of his plan to execute you for treason, he was terrified. But he couldn't say anything. He couldn't risk losing everything he’d built, especially now knowing you’d never felt the same way about him. He assumes so anyways, claiming it was the safe assumption.

Toji knew something had gone amiss the day Sukuna went to finish the job and he hadn’t returned. Toji was prepared to take over no questions asked. He began making changes in command, having conversations with his chain when there was word of disturbances in the hall.

Once the police bore into the casino penthouse, aiming straight for Toji, he knew exactly who he was dealing with when he looked into Suguru’s eyes as he stared him down behind the barrel of his gun. 

“Toji Fushiguro, you are under arrest for the murder of Ryomen Sukuna. You have the right to remain silent…” Satoru speaks from his spot in the middle of the room, gun raised at the man seated before him.

“So, you’re the one, huh?” Toji speaks over Satoru, nodding his head at Suguru.

“What?” Suguru lowers his gun momentarily.

“You’re the one she fell for,” Toji laughs from his chair. He swirls the whiskey around in his glass before he stands, raising his hands into the air. “I didn't do this, but I’ll go down so she doesn't have to.”

Satoru walks behind him to place the cuffs around his wrists.

“You loved her too.” Suguru states. “Didn’t you?”

Toji just smiles as Satoru walks him out in his cuffs. He did. He loved you more than anything else on this planet. But he’d rather you live the life you wanted than stand in your way. It’s why he helped you leave Sukuna before. He knew you didn’t see him in that same light and he was okay with that. He was just happy to see you happy.

Suguru felt bad at that moment, but he knew he’d keep that information to himself. 

The copious amounts of forged documents, planted evidence, fake witness statements.. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Toji wasn't the one who killed Sukuna. Everything made it seem like Toji was tired of being second in command and wanted it all. 

Toji would take whatever punishment was coming his way; he knew this was your doing. He knew you’d be broken once you found out he hadn’t attempted to stop Sukuna. Toji was supposed to be your safe haven, and he let you down. He knew that. So he was prepared to take whatever you thought was a suitable punishment for him. He’d kneel on the ground you walked on if it meant making you smile. Especially since the guilt ate him up inside for never standing up for you earlier. He swears he’d do anything to make you happy, but he cowers away when you actually need him. Toji knew he was a coward. He knew he could have done something earlier but he didn’t. 

Toji was convicted and placed on death row for the murder of Sukuna. The revenge plan you had set in motion had come to a head, you just had to do this one last job and then the life you planned with Suguru would be in the palm of your hand.

Toji’s son was your last target; you tracked him for weeks while you located the item in question: Toji’s unsealed will.

The will contains everything you would need. The numbers to multiple offshore accounts with millions of dollars. The deeds to houses spread throughout the world. Everything his kids would need beyond his lifeline.

Seventy seconds. In and out.

Suguru is outside waiting for you. Something you’re not used to. But the sense of security feels nice for once. Every job before this one you’d done alone. Having the man you’re willing to risk everything for waiting for you while you perform the most important job of your life has every nerve alight with anticipation, and also relief; Knowing he’d be there if something went wrong. Your heart could burst out of your chest in appreciation for him.

Satoru is down the street, handling the signal blocker for the alarm at the bank. Intercepting the signal is the easy part, but keeping it down for seventy seconds is the hard part. But Satoru isn't worried. 

The bank manager approaches you with keys in hand, “Safety deposit room, right?” the man timidly asks. His question throws you off momentarily. Your smug smile falls as he speaks.

“How’d you know that?” you ask, reaching for your gun.

“Stop, Ruby. We’re playing by my rules from now on.” Satoru’s voice startles you from behind. 

“Satoru, you’re making a huge mistake right now,” you warn, your hands remaining where he can see them.

“The only ones making mistakes are you and Geto.” 

“He’ll be in here once he realizes I’m taking too long. You know that as much as I do.”

“Oh, I'm counting on it,” he sneers, “Now, turn around and face me.” 

You hear the sound of his gun click, making you chuckle.

“I don’t need his help anyways,” you duck down and sweep your feet under his legs, catching him off guard and making him tumble backwards onto the floor. A big cracking sound fills the air as his head makes contact with the hard floor. “I can handle myself, you should have known that, Satoru.” 

The few onlookers in the bank unsure of what to do, the silent alarm still won’t trigger.

Satoru looks up at you from his spot on the floor, a ringing in his ears from how hard his head collided with the marble. “You won’t get away with this,” he pants out in pain, clutching the back of his skull. His gun. He needed his gun. Where? Where did it end up? His head just hurts and that’s all he can focus on. His GUN, whERE IS IT? Satoru, where is y–

“I already did,” and with that you leave him laying there, your gaze serving as a warning as you pull the bank manager in the direction of the safety deposit room. He opens exactly what you want; no questions asked.

Unfortunately, you decided no loose ends this time. The bank manager met his fate inside the safety deposit room. He begged, but only for a minute. This wasn’t like you. Look what love did to you. Love and betrayal. Everyone you had ever loved betrayed you. But not Suguru. 

Never Suguru.

Sounds of fighting pull your train of thought from the lifeless man in front of you. Making a swift exit with the paperwork tucked into your jacket, you head for the source of the sound. 

“What are you doing, Satoru? This isn’t what we agreed on,” Suguru groans from their wrestling spot on the floor. Arms are being pinned, yanked free and then pinned again. The men fight to get the upper hand.

“I told you that I took an oath to stand up to people like you and her. This isn't a game, Geto. Don't you see that?” 

Suguru stops for a moment, looking at his friend while he processes the words leaving his mouth.

“Sugu,” you call from your position, gun raised and pointed directly at the white haired man before you.

“Now, Ru!” he calls to you, turning Satoru’s upper body so his back faces you. There’s silence. So much silence that follows the shot. Suguru looks at his friend beneath him with tears in his eyes. The hurt and betrayal laced behind every feature. The life leaves Satoru’s eyes as the men lock their gazes. “I told you, you won’t take her from me.” 

He stands from his spot, walking over to you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, looking you over.

“Fine. You?” you rush out. He nods quickly. “We need to go, now,” you grab hold of one of his hands, pulling him towards the exit. 

“You know we’re about to be on the run for the rest of our lives together?”

“Are you complaining?” he asks from the driver's side, sunglasses pushed atop his head as he weaves his way through the mountainous roads.

“Of course not. Never when it's with you.”

“I love you, Ru.”

“I love you more, Sugu.”

♡ tags: @celestie0 @lostfracturess @alwaysfreakingout @shervinss @jaelahh @gojolvrr34 @shesplendl @phoenix-eclipses @nanasukii28 @mylifetold @bakuhoethotski @4y3sh4 @whereflowerswenttodie @drakenswifeyy

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Can I request headcanons for Raphael, Haarlep, and Zevlor being jealous of some guy is flirting with their female s/o although she's oblivious that he's flirting with her? He's so possessive that he even took her back home to have a heated make-out while holding her close & his tail wrapped around her leg!

I love a Possessive man. I'm not even going to lie. I always get asked if I met a guy in the books or fics I read how I would handle them. In theory, I would love it; in practice, I am a sassy beach and would probably not last.

HEADCANON~~~~~~Haarlep, Zevlor, Raphael

Haarlep-

He couldn't believe the fact he was so irate at this moment. Like he has never felt more than real lust since that was what he was incarnated for. Right now, though, it was as if he was a Demon of Wrath instead of a Demon of Lust.

How could you be so damn oblivious? You just sat there smiling with that stupid, adorable, cute smile.

You were perfect inside and out, something he didn't see in many people. You were the woman of his dreams. That wasn't an easy feat for a demon that could literally bed anyone.

You were his and his alone, so why was another demon standing so close to his woman.

(Haarlep would literally be the iconic TV trope of a partner breaking a champagne or wine glass in hand out of anger. Man is one for theatrics. Come on.)

It was all over after the demon talking to you touched your face to move some hair behind your ear. Before you could even process what was happening, Harrlep was on top of the other demon, practically torturing him.

Once Raphael dismissed and sent him on his way, he grabbed you and took you to his room.

Mans is a pacer when he fears his emotions are too big to handle right then.

Once calmed down, especially by your words, he just turned to you and, with no hesitation, kissed you passionately.

Let's be honest: Haarlep is a man of business. He doesn't play around.

As extra reassurance, you wouldn't leave him for three weeks straight; his tail was wrapped positively around your thigh or waist, constantly teasing you and testing others.

Zevlor-

I'm not going to lie. In my first playthrough, I punched Zevlor, so I can confidently say Mans is a big baby. He plays it off cool, but once his ego is hurt, he tanks Man, and it's so cute.

Watching the male tiefling flirt with you was literally hell on earth. Might as well have Avernus burning around him as you laugh at that stupid demon's jokes.

This party to celebrate your victory was supposed to be a night for you and him to sneak off and consummate your relationship before the long journey through the shadowlands. (If you know, you know, and I cry every time)

Man is more of a self-deprecating jealous than a wrathful jealous. So, unlike Haarlep, who just waits to explode, Zevlor is coming up with 1000 reasons why the other demon is so much better for you.

Zevlor becomes withdrawn and makes his way to his maps and equipment for the expedition, no longer interested in the party.

If he can't see his heart get broken, how can his heart get broken, you know?

However, what this man loved about you most was that you picked up on so many subtle clues. So, with little time between his self-deprecating and abandonment of the party, you were at his side.

The man couldn't even look you in the eyes. He was so sure he would fuck something up.

After some gentle coaxing, he finally listens to you and holds you so gently, kissing you fiercely and passionately.

(He may leave a few hickies or ten to really make sure everyone knew you were taken)

While on the road to Baldur's Gate, he never took his tail from around your waist. He kept you close and secure next to him.

God forbid the tiefling from the party even remotely gets too close to you. That tail might go to other places to prove a point.

Raphael-

He is far too prideful and egotistical to physically show anyone or anything in general how upset he is that another man is talking to you.

He would rather burn in hell under his father's thumb than admit he is jealous.

He knows at the end of the day, you are his. I mean, he had your soul. The first night you two consummated, he took it from you.

That didn't stop the nagging feeling he had watching you laugh, smile, and, in his eyes, flaunt what was his.

Being prideful, Raphael's approach to removing the threat was simple. He simply reminded everyone how powerful he really was.

All it took was a quick interjection into the conversation and not so-subtly informing the lingering demon about how his father was a king of hell.

Once the threat was taken care of, he turned to you. Oddly enough, with a simple, commanding look, you knew it was time to retreat to your shared quarters.

Before you could make it through the door fully, you were slammed against a wall, mouth covered by his.

By the end of the night, you had more marks covering your body than you cared to admit, but damn, at least everyone knew who owned you.

After that incident, at every gala or event he held, you were to sit on his lap with his tail wrapped firmly around your body.

If you behaved well, he would use his tail elsewhere, too.

I had a lot of fun writing this; when I first joined Tumblr many moons ago, this wasn't a huge thing, so this is my first time writing one of these. I really hope I didn't disappoint. Thank you so much to everyone from Annons to other blogs for the help and support in beginning my journey to writing! I appreciate all of you!

[rocketbirdie]

Memories.

-----

Before he could come up with an answer, though, Kunsel was hugging him. At first, it surprised him, though he didn't know why. Maybe just because the last five years had been completely devoid of positive touch like this. Maybe it was because he hadn't quite expected it. But either way, it was needed, and Zack felt himself sink into the hug almost immediately, wrapping his arms tightly around his friend and burying his face in the other's shoulder.

Am I lost? You're not lost, you know this place. See how you know this place? That's not right—

His panicked breath halts and the world shifts under his feet. Against the cracking ache and the fogged haze, he lifts his head and blinks into the shine of mako gold eyes. When did you get here? Kunsel has information and he sends it to you often. Leave, he's not important.

"Lost? Me?" His toothy grin sends a flare of pain behind his eyes. When have we met? You know him, like you know this place. "Kunsel, man, you know I've run around underplate a thousand times! Stop worryin'! I'll see you later, ok? Things to do, pretty girls to see—"

Kunsel Zantos showed promise. That much had been obvious from day one of his formal recruitment; questionable background and motivations aside (that which, perhaps, had begun Tseng's careful monitoring in the first place). But in truth, the Turk had not expected him to last long. Bets placed against him for all manners of reasons/excuses, foolish enough to go poking his head in places they didn't belong.

And yet, here he was, stubbornly persistent despite it all.

The last time he had to deal with a SOLDIER directly like this? All those years ago. Alongside Zack. A case which had been pulled from its archival home to live under the watchful gaze of the leader of the Turks because of the very reckless idiot he was now working with.

There was a comfort in physical contact that Aerith couldn't explain. It was always how she had been. But she bottled that for the sake of being heartbroken. The more Kunsel came around, the more that heartbreak lifted. The more she felt herself. The more she punched and pushed, teased and tapped. Invaded his space with those big green eyes and smiled at him as wide as she could...

She was happy.

"...you're the only one that's left— you— you KNOW everything, and I know you have to live with that just as much as I do, but you've come back after all this time, and that's all you can say to me? 'Life isn't a game, Roche— life isn't a stage!' Then what am I supposed to make of it, huh? Play the loyal little hound like you? Bow down and kiss some Shinra ass while I'm at it? Abandon who I am; what my heart tells me to do? You're no better than those goddamn Turks."

-----

Thank you for the commission! 💜

[morganacorp]

Lena knew that kryptonite hurt Supergirl in ways she couldn't imagine. She had heard her say once that it felt like molten lava running through her veins, broken glass against her skin, piercing her until she was weak and vulnerable.

Lena saw the way Supergirl's skin started glowing green the moment her mother stepped closer to her and pulled out a gun loaded with kryptonite, shooting her with a short green beam of light from the rock making her fall to her knees in agonizing pain. She saw her mother's satisfaction when she took a step back and Supergirl stayed down on her knees, trying to catch her breath while she tried to fight the pain.

"Something as simple as a green rock can bring the most powerful woman down to her knees and make her soft." She smirked, nodding so one of her goons would step in closer and punch Supergirl.

The hero was obviously affected by the kryptonite, struggling to defend herself. Lena watched in horror how one of the goon's punches landed on her jaw and followed with another one in her eye.

"She bleeds!" Lillian said with delight.

"Stop hurting her!" Lena screamed, trying to free herself from the man that was holding her still.

"That's nothing compared to what we're going to do to her." Lillian smirked at her daughter. "Her family destroyed your brother's life, and it's her time to pay."

"Lex went insane because he's a psychopath, but Supergirl is innocent!" Lena said loudly, hoping to distract her mother while Supergirl caught her breath. "She has done nothing to you or Lex-"

"She's a dirty alien, Lena! She's Superman's cousin." The woman scoffed, stepping closer to Lena. "He took your brother's sanity away, and I'll take the last living member of his family." She said with disgust.

"she's innocent!" Lena insisted, pleading at her mother with her eyes, watching how Supergirl stood up with difficulty, the open wound on her lip bleeding profusely.

"She's from Krypton!" Lillian yelled and nodded at her goons so they forced Supergirl back down to her knees again, punching her hard. "Besides, my dear Lena... My sweet, oblivious daughter." She said mockingly. "Would you be defending her this fiercely if you knew the truth?" She smirked, her bitter voice making Lena's heart race.

"Lillian." Supergirl managed to say. "Your problem is with me. Leave Lena out of this." She said and one of the men kicked her side so she fell and curled into a ball, feeling how her body struggled with the pain.

"Isn't that sweet." Lillian mocked her. "Little alien hypocrite."

"Let her go, mother." Lena pleaded.

"It's funny, now that I think of it." Lillian said, approaching Lena. "You defend her and you don't even know who she really is." She smiled, that cruel grin Lena knew all too well. "The truth has been in front of you the whole time, and you have never realized it... I'll be honest and say I thought you were pretty close to a genius, but it has been disappointing watching you be fooled by a pair of glasses and a sweater." She scoffed.

"Lillian!"

"Shut up, alien!" She yelled and shot her with a green beam of kryptonite that made her writhe in pain.

"Mother, please! Let her go." Lena pleaded.

"You hate lies, don't you, Lena?" She asked with a sarcastic tone. "You hate being lied to and you hate when people hide things for you."

"Whatever you're trying to do, just stop it." Lena replied bitterly. "This woman hasn't done anything wrong, all she's done is help people!"

"Did you know she has a job? And an apartment, and friends." Lillian continued, ignoring Lena. "She lives the life of a mere mortal, with the powers of a goddess." She said and stepped closer to Supergirl, making her skin turn even greener as the gun was pointed at her. "She will hate you, she will enjoy watching you die." She whispered in Supergirl's ear, a satisfied smirk on her lips before she used her gun to hit her on the head, opening a wound that started bleeding profusely.

"Stop, mother!" Lena pleaded, struggling against the man holding her. "Please, mother. I'll do anything you want but please let her go." She implored and Lillian laughed.

"Oh, Lena. You're a fool."

"I am a lot of things, so take it all out on me. Let Supergirl go." She said angrily.

"Supergirl... What a curious way to call your best friend." She said and Lena froze, her green eyes fixed on her. "Should we tell her the truth, Kara?" Lillian asked, and watched how her daughter's eyes filled with tears.

"What?" Her weak voice causing more pain to Kara than the kryptonite.

"That's right, Lena. This woman, this hero you have idealized and defended over your own family, has been lying to your face for years." Lillian said and pointed the gun at Kara, who was using all her strength to look up at Lena.

"It can't be." Lena shook her head.

"Lena." Kara whispered and then a green beam was shot from Lillian's gun, making her fall back and whimper in pain again, the blood from her head wound making her blond hair stick to her forehead.

"Not so eager to defend her now, are you?" Lillian smirked, stepping closer to Lena while they watched Kara gasp for air. The two men that had been next to her moved back to continue carrying the loaded boxes of guns Lillian had been trying to smuggle out of Lex's vault, leaving only the man holding Lena back.

"Kara..." she asked, a quivering lip and tear stained cheeks.

"Lena..." Kara sighed, trying to get back on her knees, but feeling the pain of broken ribs weighing her down.

"I'm gonna kill her." Lillian told Lena, making her snap back into reality.

She was mad, furious and hurt, but she couldn't let Lillian hurt Supergirl. Sure, she had lied to her, but her point that she had done nothing but help people still standing.

She wanted to see her suffer and make her pay for her lie, but torturing her with kryptonite was not what Lena wanted. She saw Lillian shot at her again, this time making Kara -Supergirl- slide back a few yards from where she lay.

Supergirl moaned in pain, her bruised and broken body hurting so much she could barely focus on anything. She tried to get back up again, but when she looked up she found Lena's pained and conflicted expression.

"Lena- I just-"

"Save it, alien." Lillian told her, shooting her again.

Lena was hurting and struggling to reconcile her thoughts and her heart: she saw Supergirl, a hero who had saved her life and had protected the city and the world countless times, and then she saw her best friend Kara, who lied and betrayed her. She couldn't stand the sight of Supergirl suffering, but thinking that Kara was there in front of her, whimpering in agony and helpless, made Lena's heart break.

She was mad, but her heart was soft and bleeding for Kara. That one person who always had her back, saved and protected her in her own way.

The same Kara that always knew how to cheer her up, or when to sit by her without words. The same Kara she looked forward to seeing, the same Kara that always greeted her with a warm hug that made Lena's heart race.

"Does your people have some kind of prayer for when you're about to die? I'm feeling generous." Lillian said with poison, watching how Supergirl struggled but managed to get on her feet, wobbling and almost falling down twice before she found her footing.

Lena looked at her and noticed everything she had refused to see before, all the clear signs that Kara and Supergirl were one and the same. She stared at her, noticing the bruises on Supergirl's face, the blood on her suit that was still dripping from her open wounds, and then she caught a glimpse of the blue eyes she knew all too well.

She noticed that now that she was slightly further away from Lillian the kryptonite didn't have the same effect on her, allowing her to recover enough to stand on her own. She was obviously very weak, but Lena knew that she still had enough in her tank to escape if given the chance.

"Lillian, let Lena go." She said with effort, her voice breaking.

"Don't say my daughter's name with your filthy mouth, hypocrite." Lillian scoffed bitterly.

"She's innocent and she-"

"Stop trying to defend me." Lena said firmly, tears streaming down her cheeks in earnest. "Don't you dare to say my name." She said angrily and looked back at the man holding her back until he let her go, sure that she wouldn't try to run.

"Lena-"

"I think my daughter was pretty clear." Lillian said and lifted the gun, pointing it at her. "You have betrayed a Luthor, alien, and now you'll pay for it." She said and Lena waited until she was surely about to pull the trigger, knowing that she only had one chance to do it.

She knew kryptonite wouldn't kill her, that it doesn't hurt her body in the way it hurts Supergirl. She knew it was a gamble, but she had always liked tempting fate.

She ran towards Kara, stepping in front of the green beam that would've ended her life and protecting her with her own. She felt the force of the green light hitting her square on the chest, pushing her back until those strong arms wrapped around her.

Kryptonite wouldn't kill her, no, but the force on that beam was enough to disorient her and take her breath away. She could hear her mother cursing and Kara's voice- Supergirl's voice-yelling at her, but she couldn't make up what they said.

She closed her eyes, feeling Kara's arms holding her against her body, and then everything went black.

"She's waking up." A familiar voice said softly when Lena opened her eyes, trying to focus while she loked around. "Lena, it's okay. You're safe." The same voice said softly, and her eyes finally found her face.

"Alex." She whispered.

"You have a concussion, and you were out of it for a few hours. You're safe." She explained, looking into her eyes with a concerned frown. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I was hit by a truck." She said honestly.

"You have bruised ribs too... What you did was stupid." She said, grabbing her hand. "But incredibly brave." She said giving it a squeeze. "Thank you."

"That should be me thanking her." Kara's soft voice caught Lena's attention, and it was until then that she noticed her sitting on a chair next to her, the warmth of her hand resting on top of hers.

She was dressed as Kara, even though the bruises and dried blood reminded Lena of the truth.

"Kara-"

"Alex, can you-"

"I'll be back in a moment. Call me if she gets dizzy." She nodded, knowing the two of them needed to talk. She walked out of the med bay area and informed Nia and Brainy that Lena was awake.

"Thank you for saving me." Kara whispered, looking down in shame. "I'm sorry."

"You should be under the sun lamps." Lena responded, slowly removing her hand from Kara's.

"I will heal, eventually." She shook her head, removing her glasses and looking up to try and contain the tears that inevitably made their way down her cheeks. "I was going to tell you... I just-"

"You lied, and that's something I can't forgive." Lena whispered, her own tears making an appearance.

"Let me explain." Kara whispered, pleading blue eyes behind bruises. "Lena, I just... I was scared."

"You should get under the sun lamps, Supergirl." Lena said softly, her voice breaking. She turned her face away from Kara and felt a horrible headache making her brain throb, something that wasn't helped in the least when she tried her best to contain a loud sob.

Kara sat there in silence for a moment and then moved to her bed, feeling the warm from the sun lamps engulfing her like a healing blanket. She rested her head on the soft pillow and cried quietly, trying her best to not hear Lena's quiet sobs a few steps away.

[palmofafreezinghand]

suspenders: on ao3 here.

2011. 

A wolf whistle stopped Carlisle mid-step as he walked down the second-floor hallway. 

“Someone’s getting lucky,” Emmett sang, his signature heavy footsteps coming up quickly behind Carlisle. 

“That is the hope,” Carlisle said quietly, eyes fixed on his freshly shined shoes, mindlessly twisting his wedding band. 

“I’d fuck you,” Emmett chuckled, his strong hand briefly landing on Carlisle’s shoulder as he used the leverage to push himself forward. 

Carlisle’s brows furrowed as he looked over at the young man. “If you were a woman and my wife, of course?” 

“Don’t be weird. I’d do it as me,” Emmett frowned as if Carlisle was broaching the confines of their relationship with his suggestion. 

“Oh, thank you?” 

“Anytime, Buddy,” Emmett elbowed Carlisle’s arm as the two began to resume their walk down the hall. “She’s been gone what, a month right?” 

“Two months, three weeks, and six days,” Carlisle responded a second too quickly to seem normal. 

His wife had been offered the opportunity of a lifetime, lead designer and contractor of a historic restoration project. The original architect had been one she had admired for nearly a century, and the chance to fully restore his work had been one she under no circumstances could refuse, even if the project required her to live on-site. 

“Not that you’ve been counting,” Emmett chuckled. 

“Of course not. I support my wife in all her endeavors, even the ones that require her to live in a different country for two months, three weeks, six days, and seventeen hours.” “That was almost believable,” Emmet said as they reached the staircase. 

“Good, I’ve been practicing.” 

“Have fun,” Emmett grinned, punching Carlisle’s arm one last time, before jumping over the railing onto the first floor — an act he was strictly prohibited from doing while Esme was home — and bounding out the front door. 

Carlisle made his way down the stairs in a dignified manner, futzing with the drape of his sweater as he walked. He stopped in the first-floor foyer, examining his reflection in the entryway mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair once, twice, a third time. The lock at the front of his hair refused to stay gelled back, stubbornly falling on his forehead. His wife once remarked it made him look like ‘Clark Kent’s’ alter ego, he thought it made him look like a bum. 

“Someone’s dressed up,” Rosalie said from the living room. 

“Do I look alright?” Carlisle asked, turning to face her, holding his arms out at either side. 

“Better than you usually do, but that’s not saying much,” she said from her spot on the couch. A disassembled speaker lay on the coffee table in front of her. A soldering iron in her hand as she pieced two parts back together. 

“You know some people do find me half-decent looking.” 

“I am painfully aware. You forget Esme and I are friends,” she sighed, turning her attention back to her project. 

Carlisle took the move as a sign the conversation was over and turned back to the entryway mirror. His focus was fixed on his tie this time. It was light blue floral silk. Esme had bought it on one of their first trips to Paris, remarking it complimented his eyes. 

“Speaking of Esme,” Rosalie said, dropping her voice so the rest of the house could not hear her unless listening intently, “did you know she enjoys a high-waisted pant?” 

“Does she? I feel as if most of her pants have a reasonable - Oh, you are referring to my trousers.” 

“I did not say that,” Rosalie said but he could see in the mirror she was nodding her head. “I did not say she thinks a pant like you used to wear in the thirties are becoming or quote accentuates your hips.” 

“Good to know,” Carlisle said, turning to walk back up the stairs, appearing to be nonchalant. “On other news, I believe I forgot something upstairs.” 

He was halfway down the hall when Rosalie quietly called after him, “Suspenders.” 

“Suspenders?” 

“Yes, but wear something over them.” 

“Thank you,” Carlisle said, resuming his walk toward his bedroom. 

“I didn’t tell you that.” 

“Of course not.” 

Once in his bedroom he fetched a pair of dark brown high-waisted wool trousers from the very back of his closet and tried them on. He examined himself in the floor-length mirror, turning and posing. He supposed they did accentuate his hips. Was that a good thing? He clipped on a pair of suspenders and slipped a slate blue sweater over the ensemble. With one more glance in the mirror, he admitted he did look better. 

He switched the pants he had previously neatly tucked in his duffel bag for two pairs of high-waisted trousers that he had not worn since 1974 when Alice broke the news they were dreadfully out of style. Another set of suspenders was thrown in the bag, just in case. 

Truthfully he did not need to primp as if he was courting her again. His wife would surely arrive at the private airpark smelling of construction crews and latex-based paint, in a pair of dusty stained coveralls. Yet, there was something exhilarating about the preparation, a giddiness similar to the first time he asked her to accompany him on a hunt. As close to a date as they could manage back in those days. Hopefully she still found him as charming. 

Two at a time he made his way back down the stairs. He looked over to the entryway mirror one last time, running his hands through his hair, brushing the lock of hair back, it promptly fell when he removed his hand. With a sigh, he turned away from his reflection. 

 Before leaving he popped his head into the living room doorway, Rosalie had been joined by Edward, Renesmee, Alice, and Bella. Bella and Edward were tucked into an armchair reading from the same book. Alice was scrolling on her laptop. Renesmee sitting on the couch next to Rosalie, picking up a piece of the speaker turning it over in her hands, and then putting them back in the wrong place on the table. 

“I’m off to the airport,” Carlisle said. “We will be back soon. Do not burn down the house, please.” 

“Can I go with you?” Renesmee pleaded in a manner that was not age-appropriate, but he suspected was a result of being raised by nine adults she had wrapped around her finger. 

“Yet again, no you may not,” Carlisle said.  

“Why not?” 

“Because I said so.” 

“Ugh,” Ness groaned, slumping in her seat. “I haven’t seen Grandma in months. I have so much to tell her.” 

“I assure you she will want to hear every detail when we’re back in a week.” 

“A whole week?” Edward asked quietly, looking up from the book he and Bella were reading. 

’You have absolutely no room to talk. How many times I have served as a babysitter?’ Carlisle thought with a raised brow. 

Edward nodded in concession, pressing his lips together as he returned his attention to the book in his wife’s hands. 

“This outfit of yours is awful,” Alice complained. “Why do you never wear anything I buy you?” 

“Your last purchase was a lobster-patterned three-piece suit,” Carlisle said. 

“It was nautical.” 

“I think he looks fine,” Rosalie said, glancing up briefly. 

“That’s quite a compliment, coming from her,” Edward teased. 

“Thank you, Rosalie,” Carlisle said, picking his keys up from the entryway rack, and opening the front door. “Goodbye, don’t cause any chaos, please. And if you do… I am begging you, don’t call.” 

[thedeviltohisangel]

I am obsessed with your writings - like they literally make my day! I’m a sucker for some angst, so is there anyway we can have some more Cass and John angst?

THANK YOU! I am so happy to share in all my little thoughts and the fact that you all respond in the way that you do makes me so happy.

Angst...how about a little post-war this isn't as easy as we thought musings...

If there was any time for Cass to test the allegedly relaxing properties of cigarettes, it felt like now. John was looking at her with nothing behind his eyes. Like he was made of stone. Her hands were twitching at her sides and she thinks maybe a cigarette would help.

"Please don't speak to me like that." Her arms were crossed over her chest as she put physical distance between them.

"Like what? Like your emotions are invalid to me? Should be fucking familiar to you." Neither of them can really remember how this fight started. Maybe it was the martini or two she had dared to order with dinner. Maybe it was the glasses that had fallen from a waiter's tray and startled John into a cold sweat. Maybe it was the way the man who had shown them to their table looked at the skin of her thighs for an extra beat. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"Oh? Yes, John, I'm such a cold person who never understands your heart." He lit his own cigarette and stood from where had been sitting on their bed.

"It's hard sometimes, Cass, to be with someone so capable of closing off their humanity." She felt nauseous at his words. They were a punch straight to her throat. "I'm sorry we can't all shut it off like you. I'm sorry I can't just forget it all and move on the way you have."

"I never asked you to do that." He scoffed as he looked at his shoes.

"You don't have to. It's there in the way you look at me every morning." John was having trouble getting the nightmares to stop. Cass looking at him like he would break was not helping.

"No, I don't want to force you into talking about something that you don't want to. I'm trying to meet you in the middle."

"It's fine. Just another thing we'll hopefully figure out before it ruins us, right? Add it to the fucking list." The tear rolled down her cheek as he walked past her and out the door.

Her hands were shaking.

She needed something stronger than a cigarette.

[ganymede-princess]

A Hazy Shade of Winter (Pt. 2)

PART 1

ship: Angus Tully x fem!OC

warnings: Discussions of loss and grief, descriptions of dissociation.

summary: Carol gears up for her first night at Barton.

word count: 1767

a/n: Thanks so much for all the love on part one! I hope you enjoy this one. More to come soon.

written by @ganymede-princess

Carol’s fingers felt thick and unruly as she dug through her suitcase, scattering her belongings over one of the spare beds that she had designated as the closet. She fumbled with her hairbrush for a moment, the smooth plastic slipped through her fingers and scuttled across the floor. With a rush of loathing, she dove at it and threw it against the wall where it thumped weakly and fell onto the blankets. Underwhelmed by the result and full up with a bone deep weariness, she stooped over the bed and rested her weight on her open palms, trembling at the elbows. As she caught sight of herself in the hand mirror that laid at the bottom of her case, a stray tear slapped against the surface of her glasses, casting a wobbling splotch across her vision. Perhaps that was how the old man saw through his bad eye. Something must have gone wrong in the womb, she thought; some pressure that misshaped it. Maybe it was the same pressure that popped the connection in her brain that would have allowed her hands to work in tandem with her eyes.

She took off her glasses and set them aside, laying back on the prison mattress with her hand mirror above her. She watched herself with vision slightly blurred without her glasses, but still in focus. The face staring back was familiar, but she felt no ownership of it. Half hidden under the shag haircut she chose on her last out-day to Portland, streaked with tears, flushed at the extremities, hollow brown eyes glaring in defiance to the brokenness inside. It was the way she should look, but it wasn’t her. It was too pretty and too human. These days she was a fractionation, barely managing to act like a fully formed person in front of those boys. Grief clouded around her like moths, eating up her brain like a forgotten overcoat and tying the loose strings around the back of her tongue to stifle her speech. Jason had made her feel something like her old self for a few precious minutes, then Angus paid her the favour of shoving that part of her back into the box. Perhaps she should thank him. After all, she was closest to Elias this way.

A soft knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. She pushed herself up and took a shivering breath, and spoke in a voice that grated in her throat.

“I-it’s open.”

In waddled Mr Hunham, his unfocussed eyes clouded with pity. He adjusted his bowtie, then let his hands rest awkwardly by his round body, like a little brown penguin.

“Hello, Carol.” His smile was stilted, and overly toothy.

“Hi, um… Mr Hunham.”

“Please.” He hesitantly stepped toward her. “We’re in private. Just call me Paul.”

“Oh.” She paused. “U-uncle Paul?”

His eyes widened, and for a moment Carol thought he must be horrified at the suggestion, but soon he clasped his hands in front of him and smiled more genuinely than before.

“Sure. Uncle Paul.”

He just stood there for a long, awkward moment.

“Can-” She cleared her throat, willing the warble in her voice to still. “Can I help you?” She bit the inside of her cheek as punishment for stumbling on her words.

“Ah. Well, I was just seeing how you’re holding up.”

“I’m fine.” Her hand moved against her will to wipe a stray tear that tickled her cheek.

“You’re crying!” He hurried over, already wild as a bull. “If one of those reprobates said something to-”

“No!” She said, though her ribs still stung as though Angus had punched her right in the spleen. “No, nothing like that. I-I’m just… thinking about… Eli.”

“Ah.” Tentatively, he lowered himself onto the end of the bed. “I can’t imagine what you must be going through-”

“Please.” She put her hand up to absolve him, not sure if she would handle hearing any more sorries. “You don’t need to say anything.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence for a while. Carol contemplated apologising, though she was not sure for what, so she stayed silent.

“I can’t imagine what you must be going through,” He repeated, eyeing her dubiously. “But I may know someone who can. After dinner tonight- if you want to, that is- I’d like to introduce you to Mary, our head of catering. She lost her son.”

“Oh.” She pinched her forearm, avoiding his line of sight as guilt chewed her up. “Sorry. I-I thought you were going to say… I don’t know, um-”

“I know what you meant.” Paul said gently.

“Hm.” She wiped at her face and finally met his cross-eyed gaze, darting her eyes between each of his before settling on the one that focussed on her. “Losing a child must be the hardest thing in the world.”

“I would imagine so.” He sighed. Hesitantly, he reached out to her and let his hand rest on her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here, Carol. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to entertain a guest, let alone family. Now, I know the circumstances are not ideal, and that we said we’d be staying in Boston, but-” He let out a frustrated huff. “I’ve been unfairly targeted by my pompous asshat of a superior, so we’ll just have to play the hand we’ve been dealt.”

“I don’t mind.” She said, minding it very much. “I’m not sure now is the right time for Boston.”

“I understand.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze and stood up to leave.

“Uncle Paul?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Thank you, for-”

Paul bolted upright like a meerkat as a loud thud came from the boys’ rooms, followed by the squeaking and shuffling of rubber soles on linoleum and the unmistakable grunting of two teenage boys locked in battle. He cast a wide eyed glance at her, stuttered an apology and dashed away. Carol sighed, gathering her strength and her glasses, and followed. She kept her distance as she approached, holding her arms around her waist in the old familiar protective stance.

“They weren’t fighting!” She heard Alex exclaim unconvincingly.

Peering past the younger boys she caught sight of Angus, his back pressed to the wall like a caged animal. He met her eyes with a look of such wild desperation that it knocked her off kilter with an overwhelming wave of sympathy, untempered even by her disdain for him. Then, she saw Teddy, standing with feet apart and arms raised from his sides as if poised to pounce back into the scrap. It made her skin crawl to see such malice written bold across his face, and felt validated in her immediate suspicion of him. There had been a strange glint in his eye when he rushed to shake her hand that afternoon, like sunlight on black ice. Jason stood between them, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and hair ruffled. The eye contact between them was brief; his eyes darted between her and her uncle, she raised a questioning eyebrow, he shrugged almost imperceptibly, and then it was over.

“I see.” Her uncle deadpanned. “And who started it, the ‘not fighting?’ Mm? Mr Tully? Perhaps you could shed some light on the subject?”

Carol stepped forward, intrigued. The boys stayed quiet, as she expected. All teenagers adhered to an unspoken code: don’t fink. Fink and you’re dead. Angus and Teddy’s eyes met in a silent challenge. Teddy jutted his jaw and glared like a petulant child.

“Mr Kountze? Mr Smith? Mr Ollerman? Mr Park? Alright then, we’ll do it like the Roman Legions.” Carol picked up a tinge of delight in her uncle’s voice. “Absent a confession, one man’s sin is every man’s suffering. For every minute the truth is withheld, you will all receive a detention.”

“I thought all the Nazis were hiding in Argentina.” Angus muttered. A barely contained laugh threatened to spill from Carol’s mouth, to her horror and confusion.

“Stifle it, Tully!” Mr Hunham checked his watch. “Now, in the first of said detentions, you will…” He paused as if thinking on his feet. “...clean the library. Top to bottom. Scraping the underside of the desks, which are caked with snot and gum, and all manner of unspeakable proteins.” Jason met her eyes, pleading silently ‘do something!’ “Ahh, on your hands and knees, down in the dust.” She felt a protest bubbling up in her chest. “Breathing in the dead skin of generations of students, and dessicated cockroaches-”

“Mr Hunham!”

“It was Kountze!” Little Alex blurted out, drowning her own exclamation. As he pointed desperately at Teddy, she caught Angus throwing him a look that landed somewhere between pity and disgust.

“Bravo, Mr Ollerman. Bravo!” Mr Hunham exclaimed sardonically, eyes shimmering with malignant joy. “As it stands, you've all had two hearty meals today, so I’m sure going without supper won’t hurt Mr Kountze too badly. We’ll be meeting in the dining hall in one hour, where you-” He waggled his finger at Teddy. “Will sit aside and watch us. I suggest you all take this time as an opportunity to study, and, uh, gentlemen? Break it up.”

With that, he waddled out past Park and Ollerman, raising his eyebrows as he caught sight of Carol waiting for him.

“Ah. You caught that, I assume?” She said nothing, just nodded and fell in step beside him. “I’m sensing some disapproval?”

“Well.” She bit her lip, unsure of how bold she should be. But then again, this Christmas couldn’t get any worse, right? “As a history teacher, I’m sure you’re familiar with the Geneva Convention.”

“Yes, I am.” Paul chuckled. “And I know what you’re getting at, too.”

“Well, personally, I’d rather not be subjected to any war crimes over my Christmas break. Plus, I’d rather not be in the position to agree with Angus Tully on something.”

“You’re off to a rocky start with him?”

“You could say that.”

“He’s a bright kid, in spite of his determination to act out and destroy his own potential.”

“I believe you.” She contemplated his words for a moment. “Maybe, and don’t take this the wrong way, if you, say… cut them some slack, the morale would be higher and everyone would get along a whole lot better. It’s Christmas.”

“Trust me, Carol, the last thing those boys need is leniency. They already think they can get away with murder, and I’d hate to see what comes after that. If you’re ever in the sorry position of a teacher, you’ll understand what I mean.”

“I suppose so.” She sighed, feeling thoroughly deflated. “See you at dinner.”

[orange-demons]

we all love avatar/bosch, but i offer you avatar/ed as a concept, because i'm deep in the ship trenches

Ohh! Avatar/Ed is such an interesting ship. and srry for the wait! I didn't forget about you I swear! I honestly thought he would have more fics on tumblr because of how popular he is. And here I thought Bosch was the underappreciated one. Dude barely has 5 fics to his name. Also I didn’t know if this was a statement or a request, so I present you with some headcanons. Enjoy!

Ed doesn't want civilians getting caught in his fight to free people from Shadaloo's experiments. So he tells you that if you stay with him you may regret it.

He’s quite distant and cocky when he talks to people, so expect some push back when you try to get close to him.

That’s kind of expected when he tells you to get lost after you reached your full mastery with him.

He doesn't care about who you used to be or if you have regrets about the past, he only cares about the version of you in front of him. The You now.

His friends are important to him, they're like his family, so he would want you to be on good terms with them before he continues the relationship.

He hides most of his feelings behind a wall, but when he finds people he cares about Ed will develop a soft spot for them.

He's one of those people who can take a punch better than he can take a hug.

But that doesn't mean he'll push you away if you decide to be affectionate with him. He'll tense up at first, then he'll relax once he realizes you aren’t a threat.

Ed would want you to meet Balrog someday, and meet the man that shaped him to be who he is. Well...he'll bring you to him whenever Ed decides to reach out to him.

Every person who wields Physco Power uses it in a way to enhance their own individual skill. So he'll work with you to help you find your unique style to the best of his ability.

As your master and potentially your future bf, he wants to make sure you're not using Physco Power all willy-nilly. It's dangerous and he doesn't want you to get seriously hurt, despite you telling him you can handle yourself.

His observation skills are sharp so he can pick up small things about you that you probably haven't noticed about yourself. Like habits or certain mannerisms.

So he can tell when you really want something when your eyes linger on it for a split second longer. Which he ends up getting for you because he likes to see you smile.

Ed can also see when you want to be affectionate with him in public. He saw you catching glances at his hands when walking beside him. But you tucked your hands in your pockets after a while of contemplating. He reluctantly offered his hand to you, because as much as he hates PDA he likes you more.

He still has nightmares every so often that makes him wake up in a cold sweat, so please hug him and tell him everything's fine.

In SF6 there are hints of corruption in his KO win pose where he laughs manically. He snaps out of it fairly quickly when you point it out and gets ashamed for letting his emotions get the best of him.

As much as a hard ass he is, he appreciates it if you check up on him just like he does with you.

Like that fortune teller said, Ed is scared of losing himself and turning into something else. Would you even recognize him?

He does get concerned if he hasn’t heard from you in a while, which prompts him to go on a full-blown search. Even if you don’t think it isn’t a big deal, he does. So he wants to make sure you’re okay.

If you’re not feeling well mentally, he’ll lend his ear to you. He has his fair share of rough days, but if there’s anything he can do to relieve some of your stress he’ll do it.

On the flip side, he doesn’t want to pick fights with you but it sometimes happens when he gets frustrated. Ed has a lot of burden on his shoulders and it doesn’t help if you’re always sticking your nose in dangerous situations all the time.

He cares, he really does. It’s just that he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

Falke would knock some sense into him if he ever goes too far and forces him to apologize to you. Makes him get on his knees and everything.

Balrog was his unofficial official father figure so Ed picked up on some of his habits later on in life. Good and bad. And his inability to show his emotions without it turning into frustration is one of them.

He’ll try to tone it down for you in the future, but it is something he’s going to have a hard time with, especially since he’s already having an internal conflict with himself on a daily basis.

There are 2 types of kisses I can see him giving: short and abrupt or long and passionate. It depends on his mood and if he’s in public. He would hate to be seen as that couple who can’t stop locking lips at the train station. He’ll get embarrassed.

He would also want to spar against you and help you fix your form when you’re off balance. As mean as it sounds, he’ll make you fall on your ass and tell you to do it again. In his head, he’s teaching you how to be a better fighter. But if it gets too much, tell him. And he’ll adjust his demeanor towards you.

Like those cheesy romcoms. Ed would give you his oversized jacket when it got too cold outside. But don’t tease him too much about it because he’ll threaten to take it back. He won’t.

Ed roams freely at night, so most of your dates will consist of street food and fighting. He also likes to go to the movies with you and watch those shitty horror movies whenever he has downtime.

But ultimately, he’s never in one place for too long. And if you want to keep in contact with him, you better like long-distance relationships.

Because of the distance, he’ll call you at least once a day no matter where he is, because he wants to hear your voice. How’s it been? Are you doing okay? Any assholes giving you shit? Etc.

But similar to his father, if things get too dangerous on his end, he’ll contemplate cutting you off from his life.

He's the type of lover who genuinely wants the best for you, with or without him.